


The Butcher of Asgard

by Kahvi, Roadstergal



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Norse Religion & Lore, Childhood Trauma, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Mpreg, Jotunn Biology (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, M/M, Other, POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-04-23 12:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14332248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: Prince Thor, the only son of Odin the All-father, is a disappointment in all but one thing: He can fight. Feared and hated by the Jotun, the young royal keeps mostly out of diplomatic affairs... until Loki Laufeyson, ambassador and heir to the throne of Jotunheim arrives in Valhalla. Both teenagers by human standards, the two find their own way through seiðr, blood and love. Can they bring peace to Jotunheim - together?





	1. Chapter 1

_Come, hear the wind and the snow sing;_  
_The crystal spires gleaming,_  
_In the palace of Kings_  
_Come, children_  
_Come, men of spears and seiðr_  
_Tanners and spinners_  
_Weavers and cooks_  
_Come all, and hear it_  
_The tale of Kings_

_Young Loki, flesh of Laufey_  
_Bound the sun to him_  
_In fire and ice_  
_In thunder and frost_  
_The deal was brokered_  
_New flesh was forged_  
_Come, hear the bubbling ale in Asgard,_  
_The bright gold gleaming_  
_The butcher and the runt_

 

“You really must try, dear.” The boy stood at Frigga’s feet, arms crossed and hair falling over his eyes, as sullen as the day he as born. You’d think he was a toddler of ten or fifteen, not nearly fifty. She reached out to touch his arm, and he pulled away.

“It’s not going to work. It never works.”

“But you must _try_. We none of us get anywhere without trying. Not I, not even your father.”

“I _do_ try! It doesn’t work.” His face was red and puffy with frustration.

“Dear one, seiðr works for no one when they first start out.” Though, she admitted to her darkest self, Thor had started out nearly forty years ago. “Now, if you’ll give me your arm, I can show you again-”

“I know how it works!”

“Good!” She reached for him again, “Then we can-”

“ _I’m not stupid!_ ” He snatched his arm from her and roared, and Frigga prayed the servants did not hear this time. What must they think she was doing to the boy? There must be some potential in him, though she could not sense it - if there were, he was hiding it deep within, unknowingly. Not for the first time, she considered the wisdom, not of having born him, but of his heritage; could seiðr win out in the mix of such violence? He was a skilled fighter, so long as he did not have to think for himself, and the hammer - thank Sindre for that, and his skill at forging seiðr artifacts - made him more battering-ram than man in a skirmish.

But he was _her_ son, too. And there were no others. Perhaps it was selfish, but she longed for a child who would welcome her gifts, sing the songs of her blood, and not their father’s.

Though wishes, she knew, were as useless as prayers in the house of a god.

 

* * *

 

 

Thor was always alone.

The children of other nobles did their best to befriend him, some from genuine interest, some driven by the obvious benefit of having the confidence of the heir to the throne, but over the years he had managed to drive all but the most determined of them away. Sif was _very_ determined, and sometimes they would swim together in the lake, or run in the woods, pretending to hunt, or lie in Thor’s bed together and do things that made him hot and distracted to think about. But he would stumble, or say something wrong, or feel too keenly how smarter and swifter she was, and before long she drifted away, too.

Thor was alone. He liked it, a lot of the time; it was quiet, and nobody stared at him and whispered things he couldn’t hear. He could practise his fighting, alone or with phantoms his mother gave him without question. He asked them to be made in his image so the fight would be more difficult, but in truth, he liked to see them shattered by this hammer and his fists, beaten away into nothingness and silence.

And then he was alone.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ve heard _so_ much about you,” the Lady Geirunn crooned, taking Thor’s hand in her own. Not quite knowing what to do with that, Thor kept smiling and drinking. There was a lot of wine. And beer. And mead. And his cup was never empty; the moment it seemed about to be, a servant rushed up and refilled it before he could protest. Not that he would have.

The room was not so much swaying as swirling dizzyingly like the void outside the bifrost, which was fine by Thor. He’d never thought these diplomatic parties very interesting at all, but father kept insisting he had to attend them. So, he’d found he could hide in the many antechambers, where guests were being wined and dined, and eventually, someone like Lady Geirunn would take an interest. She wasn’t young, but neither was she terribly old, and Thor could not give a rat’s ass any which way. She would not, of course, lay a more than a greedy hand or two on him out here in the relative public space of the palace rooms, but she would keep others from dragging him out to the main hall, which suited him fine. And at some point in the evening, he knew, he would find himself in her rooms, coming to just as she pulled his trousers down to sit astride him.

He didn’t remember much of it. He never did. Vague impressions; pleasure, certainly, but distant, like he was hearing about it second-hand. Well, it was what men and women did. Wasn’t it? His friends, such as they were, seemed to enjoy it, boasting about it whenever they could to drag Thor to an ale feast or drinking party, and when they asked he was glad to have something to tell them.

Sometimes, not very often, it hurt. Not at the time, but later, when he’d come to, wandering the halls and trying to find his way to his own rooms. A vague, dull sort of pain, not anywhere in his body, but somewhere other. A feeling of wrongness, like he didn’t belong, or at least, that the sort of belonging he did was not good enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Anger was so very easy. It welled up in him on command, taking Thor through battles like a steed. Mjølnir responded, pulling him with; all he had to do was hold on and point it in the right direction.

Everywhere was the right direction.

Jotun were cattle. Less than cattle; they were people of a sort, he knew in the back of his mind, but they were enemies, and they were targets, and this was the one thing he knew how to do. His was not to strategize; he would never be a great general. Kings didn’t need to be; that what was generals were for. Thor was a weapon, a simple one, and he was efficient.

So much blood. He knew the smell of it, more than the terrified blue faces he slaughtered. Why were there so many of them? Why did they all have to die? It didn’t seem fair to Thor, but it wasn’t for him to know.

He was, after all, not very smart.

Some nights after a battle, _he_ would want a woman. Anything to take away the blood and the wails and the faces (the eyes, red on red), but they always turned from him, seeing, perhaps, the blood-thirst in his eyes. That’s what they called it, anyway. Thor wouldn’t, but again, what did he know?

Not a lot of things. Not many things at all.

 

* * *

 

 

“I have a mission for you, my son,” Laufey told the boy. Even if he had not been sitting on his dais-mounted throne, he would have been looking _down_ at Loki.

“Really?” Loki asked, insouciently. “What is it this time?”

Laufey knew well that the boy’s poison tongue was his armor and shield, but it still did not behoove a prince to behave so. “Kneel, boy, and show respect,” Laufey rumbled darkly, and Loki reluctantly bent his knee and his head. “You will need to mind your tongue, where I am sending you.”

“And where does King Laufey wish to send his son?” Loki asked, with a thin veneer of courtesy.

“To Asgard. To the halls of Valhalla.”

Loki raised his head, meeting his father’s stare. “Has King Laufey grown weary of his son, and wishes the Butcher of Asgard to dispatch of him as a favor?” It might have sounded like insolence, but Laufey well knew Loki found it within the realm of possibility.

“King Odin has reached out to me. He wishes to improve the relationship between our two kingdoms.” The first missive, the first overture, in almost five hundred years...

“Well, it could hardly be worse,” Loki noted.

“So you think. You have not lived as long as I.” A child, not yet even five hundred years old. “We suffer at their hands, boy. Not just in the lives lost in battle, but in our isolation, our poverty. If you were to join our kingdoms in an agreement of peace, it would raise your standing in the eyes of our people substantially.” King Laufey leaned forward. “Perhaps enough to keep your head on your shoulders once I’m dead.”

Loki heaved an irritated sigh. He was, Laufey knew, potent in seiðr - but in the eyes of his people, Laufey had birthed a defective, a tiny, willowy boy, impotent where Jotun were powerful. In this, Laufey could not help him. He had allowed the other children free reign, letting Loki deal with them himself, showing his mettle instead of hiding behind Laufey’s legs. The boy had to learn to cast his own shadow. “Yes, my King.”

Laufey settled back, satisfied. “You will leave in two days’ time. Mind your manners, boy, and act as if you represent a proud kingdom.”

 

* * *

 

 

Another month, another party. Thor never bothered with the details, though Frigga always sent him an elaborate list of guests and their affiliations. It wasn’t as though he kept up with inter-realm politics, and besides, it was always the same. At just over five hundred years old, he was no longer a child, but a man. A young man, yes, but the son of the king was expected to attend the council and these functions once he came of age. And so, people came, talked, sat in meetings to which Thor was always invited but never attended, and left again, and everything just kept on as normal. In a week or so, he would be sent off to kill again, and then the fighting would stop, and there would be another party. Such was the way of the world.

From the top of the stairs, Thor had an excellent overview of the room, which he used to avoid the more wearying groups of dignitaries. It worked well enough, and he could already see that the Alfheim delegation was well into the mead. Perhaps he could circulate his way towards them, see if there were any-

_Jotun_. His hammer twitched, seeking his hand, but Thor stilled it. A face in the crowd; more than that, a tall, graceful body, ice-blue and willowy, like the horns rising through his long, black hair. _Impossible_. This was no frost giant, barely taller than Thor himself, and carrying himself like a noble queen; each step so carefully guarded, yet graceful. Leaning over the bannister, Thor took care not to look too closely; this one would know if eyes dwelled to long on him, that much was evident to see.

What manner of man was this? Some ancient seiðr, come to life? But he was young; older than Thor, more likely than not, given his confident manners, but far from elderly. Strong, Thor could see, stumbling closer through the crowd, sidestepping eager courtiers and floundering diplomats, leanly muscled. Jotun markings swirled on his skin, claiming every inch with intricate patterns, intertwined with dark blue ink on his arms and shoulders.

Thor would touch him. _Needed_ to, with unaccustomed hunger.

 

* * *

 

The hall was hot. Perhaps Loki should be focused on more critical observations, but it was difficult to focus in such unrelenting heat. He wore as little as he could get away with, given the occasion - loincloth, trousers, boots - but still wiped the sweat from his forehead with regularity. At least the conversation was not stimulating. Staid greetings followed by dull, meaningless platitudes about peace and cooperation with utterly no specifics. Aesir after Aesir, a pathetic list of minor dignitaries, each so similar to each other that Loki would not have been surprised to find out it was the same ten people cycling past. Until a man who was simply too substantial to be any of the rest of them made his way over.

"You must be the Prince of Asgard." Well, if they couldn't even get the King to arrive and speak with him, he’d take one step down. The prince was as tall as Loki, at least, twice as wide, and shockingly handsome. Some people had all the luck.

"What gave it away?" The ancient vision was talking to him. Actually talking. Thor wanted to melt into the carpet. All thoughts of touching him were gone; Thor could barely stand to meet his eyes.

Loki shrugged. "The hammer, mostly. Word gets around."

Of course. The hammer. The only reason Thor could fight with any sort of skill. He shifted a little, as though that would hide it from view. It still stirred, sensing this man as an enemy, and Thor wished he knew how to soothe it. "It comes in handy."

"Is that your primary claim to fame? Hitting things?" Good lord, those shoulders, broad enough to carry a planet. That hair, gold like the sun, just as tempting and dangerous to stare at. That face - not twisted with hate and anger, the way Loki would have expected. Glacial blue eyes looking at him with more curiosity than homicide. Perhaps Loki was small enough to not be considered worthy of killing.

"It controls thunder. Clever bit of seiðr. I don't know much about these things.” And what right had he even to talk to this man? Even his voice was stunning, like mist rising from from a frozen lake. A dignitary; an envoy, no doubt.

Loki perked up at the word. “Seiðr, you say?” Something of vague interest? It had been a painfully dull journey so far, meeting with these pointless dignitaries who all had some faux-polite variation on _I expected you to be taller_ or _You’re awfully small for a Jotun, aren’t you?_ to pull out at some point. Or worse yet, thought it without saying it.

Loki was far cannier than his father’s violent sycophants. He knew seiðr , he knew politics, he knew how to manipulate people. He would be a proper ruler – if he only were more like this large, muscular, yellow-haired brute, wearing a flared cape to accentuate shoulders that were already excessively broad. Not as physically un-imposing as Loki, such an obvious genetic defect. There was something about this prince, something compelling. Loki fiddled absently with the amulet around his neck.

"Yes, so they tell me. I know little of these things myself." Thor was a fighter. His asset was his body, nothing more. His mother, poor woman, had given up his lessons entirely after the day he managed to set the sparring room on fire. He could conjure little worthless flickers of electricity, and that was the beginning and end of it. Maybe that was why they had given him the hammer. Unlike him, it worked.

"I know a fair amount." The only reason Loki was alive, really. "May I see it?"

Just what possessed Thor to simply draw his cape aside and pull the hammer out for this strange, etheric Jotun to examine, he had no idea, but he'd done so without thinking. Like the man commanded him. Perhaps he did.

By the glaciers, it was impressive. Covered with runes of power, speed, and death, it practically hummed with violent potential. And, as Loki reached his fingers towards it, palpable malice. He pulled his hand back. "It bears no good will towards Jotun," he noted laconically.

"I suppose not. Begging your pardon, it's maimed more than a few." And killed more, but that seemed too gauche even for Thor to mention. _Red eyes. The screaming_.

"So I've heard." Loki wiped another trickle of sweat from his forehead - the press of bodies did not help with the already-brutal heat of the room. He swept his hair back to make sure it still settled neatly between his horns. "Your brutality on the battlefield is rapidly becoming legend." Yet here, in this room, he did not look the unstoppable, murderous force Loki had heard so many tales of. He looked... uncomfortable.

No Jotun Thor had ever seen - no _being_ Thor had ever seen in all the Nine Realms had looked like this. He found himself staring. Question. There had been a question.

The god was _staring_. Was he noting Loki's frailty, his clear genetic inferiority? "You're to be wed?" he said, just to say _something_. A prince that potent and attractive must have have his match lined up by now.

"What?" _Now?_ Was this some sort of set-up to distract him and present him with a bride when he was too addled to protest?

"I thought..." Loki frowned. "Odin does not have you busy making another heir?" The chain of succession was very important, and there seemed to be no reason that Odin would not have been able to find him a high-quality mate.

Ah. Mockery. At last: something with which he was well familiar. "A line of suitors have not exactly knocked down my door. Excuse me." He moved away through the crowd, or would have, if there had been a clear path. A set-up, obviously, but not from his parents; he knew one or two drinking companions for likely culprits. Were they hiding, somewhere in the chattering hive of people?

Loki nodded. "A situation that afflicts myself, as well, more to my father's distress than my own." He had no desire to either sire children or bear them of his flesh - and given what he was, Laufey should be in no hurry to see weakling grandspawn.

"Then perhaps you and I should marry and solve two problems in one go." If he could not escape, he would not simply stand here and be mocked.

"I do prefer men," Loki agreed, to unsettle the god. His father was _particularly_ annoyed - well, not by the reality, but by his willingness to acknowledge it.

"It doesn't matter what I prefer. Father has given up on marrying me off years ago. Mother, I think, still holds out hope, but she's sentimental."

"Your glory should make you a prime match,” Loki noted. Not to mention his appearance.

"You'd be surprised." The more excitable girls held up all the way through the introduction dinner, still thinking him the man of his reputation, up until the point he finally opened his mouth. The smarter ones made their excuses when they saw the holos of his so-called conquests.

“Tell me more.” Loki sighed, feeling sweat trickle down his leg. “But not here. Somewhere with fewer people. You have a room of treasures, here, I have heard?” Perhaps it would be cooler than this hall.

Instinctively, Thor reached for Mjølnir. Excited by all of this, it was vibrating, longing to be used. He would only need to flick his fingers... Stupid he might be, but he was not about to let a Jotun dignitary take him off somewhere secluded. Then he noticed the man's face. Dark blue and glistening, cheeks puffing as he breathed hard. "It's too warm for you here, isn't it?"

Loki looked off to the side. “I would prefer somewhere cooler. For a moment.”

"I know just the thing. Come with me."

Loki turned to follow with some relief. He did not care, really, that he was walking off alone with the Butcher of Asgard. He was in Valhalla - if they wanted him dead, he would be already.

 

* * *

 

 

The kitchens were not far off - Thor knew them well, needing more food than the fancy meals he was so often forced to attend these days provided - and while the smell of roasting venison was alluring, Thor shook it off and took them the long way around, avoiding the heat from the cooking fires. 'Traditional', father called them, though they had conveniences that could make the food both quicker and more easily.

"You live well here,” Loki noted. A distinct change from the featureless igloos of his people and his father’s sparse ice castle. Loki pushed away a surge of jealousy. He could use that later.

"Well enough," Thor shrugged. His life was sparring and training and battles. Now and again, this.

“You seem rather less than thrilled by your station.” The gold, the armor, the throne, the beautiful men and women, the castle, the elegant red cape - surely that was worth something.

"You get used to it after about 500 years."

"Do you also tire of _our_ kingdom?" Odin's Aesir occupation still rankled. "We wouldn't mind having it back."

"I'm not king yet." Nor did he think he ever would be. "I just go in the direction they point me."

So aimless. This prince seemed ripe for manipulation. If Loki did not, he considered, someone less skilled would - so he was practically obligated to, wasn’t he? "If you did have your preference of mate," he asked, stepping closer, "what would you choose?"

"Uh... It's nothing I've had cause to consider." He nodded in the direction of a huge set of doors. "Through here."

Was this a man of flesh and blood, to not even _consider_ it? Loki followed, thoughtfully.

"They keep the food fresh in here. Not sure how, but it's cold." Thor's mind was still reeling over the question. What would he prefer? Pretty girls were nice, but so few of them stayed. And many were expecting a handsome, clever prince, and got his sullen arse instead. The women who took a shine to him at these parties would never marry him, nor would he want them to. What else was there?

Loki stepped inside. Yes, it was cold. He closed his eyes and sighed with relieved pleasure, exhaling a cloud of frost.

This gorgeous creature, like a Jotun, but not; eyes red and shining, chest lean and strong and pale blue. The hair, falling over his back, between those two, massive horns... Thor was staring again, his mouth dry.

Loki gathered himself back into a more dignified pose. It would be easy to leave in awe of these people, with their technology and art and beauty and intricate society. "I can do magic," he offered as a counter. Jotun were not uncivilized, after all.

"You'd have to be better than me at it..." Everyone was. The old men cleaning the palace corridors were.

Oh, the prince had some ability? “Let’s see it!”

"What?" Thor felt stupid. Well, he was stupid.

"Your magic!” Loki asked, eagerly.

"I... Can't really..." Even in the cold, Thor’s cheeks flushed. But the fantastic, imposing creature just stood there, looking at him with actual interest, and he had to do _something_. He concentrated, and a pathetic blue spark fizzled down his arm.

“Ah, you’re an Elemental!” Rare. Interesting. Much more interesting than Loki had suspected at the beginning of the evening. The prince’s power was mostly untapped, but it was _there_.

Thor started. "A what?"

"Elements..." wasn't that self-evident? "You can manipulate the basic elements."

"I can?" He must sound like an imbecile.

"You just did! Hasn't anyone ever taught you?" That was criminally irresponsible.

"... No." He had never really talked to mother about it. It was so weak and ridiculous. Not a real power.

Loki sighed. "Here." He took Thor's hands in his left hand. He had added to his coming-of-age scars (what a ridiculous ritual) with some tattoos in the old style, painstakingly poked into his skin with a slender needle, of ink he had made from a fallen star. Runes to accentuate and focus magic. He called on one now, reflecting Thor's magic back at him. A bright, snapping blue spark arced from their hands.

Thor gasped, stumbling back. "How did you do that?" His hand glowed where the Jotun had touched him, but when he looked down, there was nothing to be seen.

Loki shrugged. "It's your power. I just directed it." He tried not to let show how jaw-droppingly potent this man was - without knowing it…!

"I don't have power like that. And what did you do to my hand!" It still sung from the touch, sending signals to his body he could not quite interpret. He felt almost feverish, despite the cold.

"You do. You were just never taught."

Thor’s skin tingled - not the way it sometimes did from the electricity, but all warm and lingering, like alcohol after the first few sips. What magic was this? "I'm not skilled in seiðr ," he groused.

"I am." And to have someone like _this_ indebted to him for tuition... Potent, kingly, and with such raw sexuality… could he return to his kingdom boasting that he had tamed the Butcher of Asgard?

Thor shook his head. "What's the use. I'll never be as skilled as mother. Hel, I'll never be as skilled as the average seiðman."

"You owe it to yourself to be more skilled than you are now. It will come out, one way or another." His mother was a practitioner? Loki had not heard.

Thor frowned. No one had quite put it to him like that, before. "You think I could improve?"

"Of course. You couldn't be worse, so it's all improvement from here."

That was... actually a useful way of looking at it. Not _if you try hard enough, you’ll succeed, so you’re clearly not trying hard enough_ but _anything is better than nothing_. "And you could teach me?"

"Yes." Loki was not a kind taskmaster to younger Jotun, but he got results.

"You are skilled in seiðr, then?"

"I'm the best," Loki said modestly.

"Could you show me?"

Loki shrugged. Another Thor, as vibrant and lifelike as the original - if crueller in visage - appeared in the room.

Thor jumped, hand again falling to Mjølnir. It hummed to him, speaking to his blood, readying him for battle. _Free me_ , it whispered. _Let me dance._. Thor held it tightly. The other Thor yelled, charging at Thor, his own hammer upraised. Thor readied himself, then, in a split second… paused. This was _him_. Another one of him? It had to be a trick, and besides, he could sort of see a... not a flickering, but a too sharp solidity, for want of a better word. He calmly stood down, and let the construct charge. And charge it did; straight through Thor, dissolving in a haze of gilded green light.

"My strength is glamours, illusions," Loki noted. "Most do not see that they're not real..." And this meathead had. Interesting. Alluring.

Thor shrugged. "It seemed a little _too_ real."

"So reality seems off, to you?" How odd.

"No! It was just trying too hard. I mean, I'm already here. Why would there be another one of me?"

Loki nodded. "And to be fair, he didn't look exactly like you. Old habits die hard. We're raised on a steady diet of frightening stories of The Butcher of Asgard."

Thor had no idea what his face must look like. He had not heard it before, but did not need to, for it to ring true. "Is that what they call me?"

"Yes. Lots of little blue children are frightened into good behavior by you."

"I'm... That's not something I am overly proud of."

"Well, you've worked hard at it."

"I'm only good at one thing." Thor sat down on a crate. He hoped there was nothing perishable in it. Murder and little blue sparks. What a catch he was, indeed.

"At least you're _very_ good at it."

Thor leaned forward, hair falling into his face. "Why are you speaking to me? I butchered your people."

Yet he did not seem like the man who had done so, not here and now. Men could change - particularly if properly guided. "Irrational hope springs eternal, I suppose. I'm here on a peace mission."

"Ah. Diplomacy."

Loki spread his hands in exasperation. "And you're the only person I've seen of any consequence. I've been sidelined."

"I could probably arrange something. Who do you need to meet?"

"The King or the Queen. Unless there's a different power behind the throne."

"Hah! No. Odin's the one you want. My father. I'll see what I can do." They should delight in his taking an interest in politics, finally. Well, Frigga would.

Loki nodded. "Thank you. I... honestly do want better relationships between us."

"That, I cannot promise." It was out of his hands. Did the envoy not see how powerless he was? How pathetic?

Loki folded his arms. "But do you have the slightest interest in trying?"

"Of course." This man, this unique, breathtakingly beautiful man had asked him. The least he could do was try.

Loki held out his hand tentatively. "Thank you."

Thor took it. That same feeling overwhelmed him; thrilling, warming, prickling his skin. His pulse raced.

Loki squeezed it, then let go. "We should go back," he sighed. "In the interest of projecting the appearance of interracial peace."

"You're different," Thor said, before he could get the better of his mouth.

Loki spread his arms. "Very different from you. You noticed."

"No; different from..." Hel, anyone. "I've never seen anyone like you."

Loki dropped his arms and frowned. "I'm defective. It's generally considered impolite to point out."

"S... sorry. " Defective? But he was _incredible._ Like nothing else in the worlds.

"I was born small. Stayed that way." Loki set his mouth hard. This might be novel for the Prince, but it was his reality. Not a day went by that he wasn’t reminded of it - sometimes by fists or shoulders, sometimes by comments he was intended to overhear, sometimes by snickering glances.

"You don't look small. You look... um..."

"You've seen a full-sized Jotun?" Loki asked, tartly. "You've killed enough." This difference between them and him was obvious.

"You're beautiful." Simply thought. Simply said.

Loki paused. An intriguing choice of word. "You... enjoy the company of males?" This was interesting...

"I suppose...?" As much as any man. Why was he asking?

Loki stepped closer. "And you think I'm beautiful." Perhaps Aesir had different standards of beauty. Was the Prince not beautiful by their standards? And Loki was?

"You're... you're radiant. I've never met anyone like you."

Good. Loki could look into this more in the future, but for now, it seemed a reasonable enough angle. Loki bent down and pressed his lips to the seated prince's.

What in all the worlds...! Thor's instinct was to fight or run, in that order, but instead, his blood was racing from the rest of him to his groin. He moved his lips, trying to imitate what Sif had done, that one time. He could barely remember. A lifetime ago.

Such an awkward, fumbling motion for such full and sweet lips. Had he never kissed anyone before? Or did Asgardians do it differently? Loki moved his lips on Thor's, working his cold tongue inside of the prince's warm mouth.

Thor lost his mind. This was so different to anything he'd known before; fueling him like a seiðr -source. He opened his mouth wide, pushing up against this miracle person.

Oh, this was more fruitful than Loki could have expected! He pulled Thor upright and fully against him.

Overwhelmed, Thor walked the Jotun across the room, pressing him up against the wall. He was filled with… hunger. A want, different from what came after the battles, different from the dull pleasure of drunken embraces. He didn’t know what he needed, but he needed it _now_.

Oh! This was a bit farther than Loki had planned. Timing was critical. "We should..." he mumbled through the kiss. "Get back..."

"Wh..." Ah. Thor pulled back. Not reciprocated, of course. He shouldn't be surprised. "Yes," he panted. "Of course. "

Loki let his hand linger over Thor's ear, his face. "My room. Later." Damned if he was going to have sex in a food storage room. They would do this properly, on a bed, and Loki would do his utmost to please this intriguing prince, to bind him tightly. If he was as inexperienced at sex as he was at kissing, Loki might have an edge.

"Yes?" Impossible. Did he really mean…

"If you want to have sex."

"Y... yes. Yes, I do." _Men_ could have sex with _men?_ Why had no one told him!

"And you know where my room is." Good god, was the man touched?

"Erm, no." Stupid. So stupid.

"Then let me show you." Had even the prince not been told a Jotun ambassador was visiting? Well, it would not be the first time the Jotun had been overlooked in Asgard. Loki took his hand.

Thor barely had the presence of mind to nod, before following. Like a dog. He didn't care.

 

* * *

 

Thank the glaciers Loki had a good cognitive map. He was able to retrace their steps back towards the entrance hall, and from there, back to his guest rooms.

"We'll be missed," Thor breathed. The Jotun even moved beautifully.

"We'll come back after I show you where I'm staying," Loki promised. He _was_ excited, however. What would it be like, to bed an Asgardian? It might be dangerous. That was thrilling. Just the right amount of danger to be _arousing_.

"Of course." Thor tried not to sound disappointed.

"It isn't far." Loki turned down a dark-paneled corridor, to a door next to a fine metal vase on a pedestal. "This is where they put me."

"I know this place." There had been a girl they wanted him to marry staying there, once. She'd thrown him out.

"How many diplomats have you bedded here?"

"Again, you'd be surprised."

"You'll have to tell me all about it." Loki wasn’t used to being this alluring to someone, and it made him giddy. He put his fingers on Thor's cheek. "But back to the reception, for now."

Thor nodded, dry-mouthed. And once he'd introduced him to Odin, nothing more would come of this.

Loki steeled himself to walk back to the reception. Without even noticing it, his hand found Thor's.

This was a thing that was happening. All right, Thor told himself, that was all right. Probably a diplomat thing.

Thor had no idea what he was doing, which was nothing new. He plowed his way through the throng, knowing that the sooner he could get the envoy in touch with Odin or Frigga, the sooner they could leave, and he could take Thor back his rooms and maybe… maybe… At this point, Thor’s imagination simply ground to a halt. He nearly elbowed General Embla in the eye, and as he stumbled back with muttered apologies, Thor realized he had remembered her name. She had never been in his command, but he had seen her at most of the military councils to which his father dragged him whenever Thor could find no excuse not to attend, and frequently when he found one, too. _Married to a Niflheim warlord,_ he remembered, always bringing her dogs everywhere. He dragged their names from the back of his mind, and she actually _smiled_ when he asked about them.

A little dazed, he moved from group to group more carefully, asking after Odin - who had ‘withdrawn’, meaning, Thor well knew, that he had grown weary of the entire affair before it was over, and was sipping water of life somewhere in his rooms - then Frigga. And the strange thing was… people listened. They nodded at him, even smiled, and Thor talked to them about their families, their land; all the little things that had somehow made it into his mind after dozens of endless meetings and half-skimmed documents.

Here, Thor discovered, to his shock and astonishment, was something other than fighting that he was good at. You couldn’t pry the smile off his face with Mjølnir itself.

When they rejoined the party, Loki let the prince walk ahead of him. It wasn’t simply that he was coming to enjoy the sight of the man - hel help him, he was, those thick legs, that sharp jaw, and always, gods, those broad shoulders - but he wanted to take the measure of the man in this diplomatic setting. It was a measure easily taken. The prince smiled, greeted people by name, shook hands, asked after their spouses, children, or pets, as the case demanded, and was, generally, a ray of sunshine brought to life and dropped into a tedious party. Loki found his mouth watering. He _had_ to have this man.

 

* * *

 

 "Thor." Frigga smiled. Her son had finally noticed her. It had been stunning, astonishing, to watch him this night - not sullen and withdrawn, eager to take the first excuse to leave, but social, engaged, polite, a _princely_ presence. What had made the difference? "You're the life of the party tonight, aren't you?"

Loki took stock of the newcomer. This woman was... simply stunning. Old enough to be Loki's mother, but elegant, poised, her cascade of red hair perfectly coiffed in a living crown, dressed in layers of colored silk draped and tied enticingly. And she practically hummed with magic. Why had the previous diplomats never commented on this? Was she new to the court?

"Mother." She was looking at him as though she were proud of him, and Thor didn't know what to do with that. He tried to focus on the matter at hand; here, finally, was a chance to do as he had promised.

Frigga held out her hand to the boy standing near her son. "And I see you've met the new ambassador from Jotunheim." And he seems to be physically intact, despite that. Speaking of unexpected.

Loki bowed and kissed her hand elaborately. Thor’s mother. Queen Frigga. No, not a newcomer; the previous ambassador had been an idiot. No wonder he had been driven out and told never to return.

Thor watched him lean forward so gracefully it was difficult to imagine he was a physical being, and not just one of his own illusions. Thor was staring, he knew; he managed to shake himself out of it. "Yes, he wanted to meet with you. I believe you have some things in common."

Frigga nodded. She recognized a sorcerer when she saw one. "We will have an audience in the morning,” she told the little Jotun, “I will send for you. In the meantime, enjoy our hospitality. My son will see to it." She touched Thor's arm. Anything to make him see his enemies as _people_...

The touch on Thor’s arm was nearly startling; he was staring again. He really had to do something about that; people would think him rude. "Of course." He flashed her a quick smile, then looked back at the envoy.

"I'm honored," Loki replied, keeping his tone neutral. Was _she_ trying to counter-manipulate him with her handsome son? She was so little talked-of, but on meeting her, it was not because she had little to her. She was subtle and refined in her interactions, using those around her to have her own way, without it seeming to be her doing. Interesting.

"Lovely to meet you," she smiled, "and I look forward to our talk tomorrow." She had heard this _new_ fellow was more clever and subtle than your typical Jotun. She would have to be careful, aware. As would her son.

"Thank you, mother." This was good, wasn't it? What the beautiful man wanted? And _peace_ \- an impossible thought, just hours ago. Thor wanted that, more than ever, now that he knew that there would be something that he could do, in times of peace.

"Your mother is lovely," Loki noted, watching her walk away. And a potent witch, and, it seemed, highly intelligent.

"Yes. She's always been very patient with me."

"You're a hero." To these people. "There must be tradeoffs." A little more deference given to Thor than to anyone else.

"Oh, there's plenty of praise. Celebrations. You can imagine, I'm sure." And at every single one of them, people laughed behind his back and thought he didn't notice. Hero? Only in the technical sense. Butcher was more accurate.

"Not really. In our culture, you're only a hero after you're dead." Celebrations were not joyous affairs.

"We have something similar." Dead heroes were always more perfect than those still alive and visible, warts and all. There has been times when... Well, no matter. "But we honor our living as well as our dead."

"Interesting." Loki took a drink proffered by a passing servant. It was warm and tasted vile, but was pleasingly potent.

"Beyond that, there are the usual advantages and disadvantages of having a familiar face."

"I try to mitigate the disadvantages as much as possible." Loki demonstrated, and Thor found himself staring at a perfect image of his mother.

"Uncanny," Thor muttered, taking a step back. And more than a little disturbing, for reasons a little vague to him.

"Although anonymity has its advantages." A bearded Asgardian soldier, now, in gold armor and greaves, helmet half-covering his face. Loki loved to show off, but so few Jotun appreciated his sense of humor. Thor’s admiration was delightful.

"That's quite a skill." Thor walked around the illusion. The level of detail was beyond impressive, and into the realms of the slightly insane.

"I am here to serve milord," Loki replied in a broad parody of servitude.

Thor snickered. "I see you've met our bravest and finest."

Loki let the image dissolve to reveal his usual form. "Indeed. Sometimes I wonder if it would help with diplomacy to look more like those I'm visiting." He made a more subtle illusion - an Asgardian version of himself, with unscarred white skin.

Thor's jaw dropped. This form was no more or less beautiful than the envoy's natural form, but seeing him as a fellow Aesir, something in his mind clicked into place. He was no longer some ethereal thing; he was more obviously physical, and Thor's body had rather an acute reaction to that. As though he were a woman.

"Excuse me," a passing waiter said, trying to pass by. Thor was blocking her.

"Sorry," he said, grabbing a drink off her tray and downing it in one.

Loki smiled, noting Thor’s rather visceral reaction. "Ah, so it works?"

"Uh, works?"

"You seem to appreciate this form." Wait, Asgardians wore more clothing. Loki gave himself an elaborate tunic of braided leather and a cape hanging from his shoulders. Elaborate clothing was no more difficult than plain, for him.

Why was that _more_ alluring than a naked chest? Thor tried to nod nonchalantly.

"I'll stick with it for now," Loki decided with a nod.

Thor tried not to look disappointed. Yes, seeing the envoy like this had been... interesting, but that other form? He already longed to see it again.

"I didn't realize how socially adept you were.”

Thor rolled his eyes. "Yes, quite. You don't have to rub it in."

Loki frowned. "If I had wanted to be sarcastic, I would have done a better job. You were scintillating. You left a trail of swooning men and women in your wake." That was only slight hyperbole.

This was information Thor had no idea what to do with. "Uh." He blushed, furiously. "That's not how it usually goes."

"I'm honored to be the catalyst," Loki quipped.

"Did... did you want to meet with someone else? I could arrange it." He had to try to get his mind off just exactly what the envoy had started in him. The thought foremost in his thoughts right now was that of men, having sex with men. He'd never considered it before. The implications were unsettling.

The timing was right, Loki decided. He touched Thor’s chest gently with his hand. "You."

"M... Me." Those eyes were as icy blue as his real skin.

"If you're still interested."

"Yes," Thor said, faster than he thought he was capable of.

Loki tried not to show how utterly flattering this felt. To be _wanted_ like this, and not just for a quick fuck because he was Laufey's son. To be wanted for _himself_. It was completely alien. "Then let's go."

This was all so... Deliberate. Thor's previous experiences, such as they had been, had always been in a drunken haze and therefore barely remembered. But this? He would be able to remember _everything_.

This was something different for Loki. Not leering, looming men a head and a half taller than him, getting him drunk or just dragging him along to _this is what will happen_. This was something Loki wanted, and was controlling. It was addictive. He had to force himself to walk at a normal pace.

"It's strange to see you in this form. You look so,” he searched for the right word, “human." Still _other_ in some undefinable way.

"Human." Loki sighed. Weak, short-lived creatures. "In that case." He dissolved the glamour and revealed his usual form.

Thor's breath caught. Stars, the man was scintillatingly alluring. And seeing him now, his body working in tandem with his brain... Thor started to walk a little faster.

"In a hurry? I'm flattered."

"I don't do this very often..."

Loki turned to face him, walking backwards. "I don't believe you." A man who looked like _that_ who carried a party like _that_ , who spoke and moved with such assurance - even if he were not a prince, he would have his pick of partners.

Thor couldn't look directly at him. "Suit yourself," he mumbled.

"I try to." Loki turned back around, opening the door to his guest room.

Thor's heart was in his throat. He slowed down, following. His trousers were tight and uncomfortable.

"Come in. You look like you need a drink."

Thor hesitated. He didn't want to get drunk; not for this, but he did not want to say or do anything wrong, either. "If you're offering," he managed.

"Just a nightcap," Loki promised, closing the door behind them. "I won't get you drunk just to have sex with you. That's no fun."

"All right..." How did he know? How could he possibly know?

Loki pulled a bottle from his bags and poured two small draughts of a bright green liquor into glasses he took from the sideboard. "This is popular at home. Fairly sweet, rich, not too strong."

Pretending to watch the liquor, Thor kept glancing over at Loki. His eyes were red, but not like other Jotun, where it bled into the whites when they locked eyes with you. These were like the eyes of Asgardians, or humans; bright and keen and clear.

Loki handed over one glass, sipping at the other. "I would say 'to peace,' but I'd like to get a little closer first."

"I didn't use to think that was possible."

"Well, you weren't helping." Loki leaned against the sideboard and shrugged. "Nor your counterparts on our side. Me, I like being comfortable, and not looking over my shoulder endlessly."

"There was always a war." Thor sipped the green liquid. It tasted better than it looked; mild and just barely spiced. Not too sweet. "I just did what I was trained to do." They pointed him in a direction, and he went off killing Jotun.

Loki nodded thoughtfully. "It's a vicious cycle. You kill us because you know we're evil. We know you're evil because you kill us, and we kill you. So you knew we're evil."

"I hate it." The bitterness in his voice surprised him. "I used to worship the Valkyries, when I was young. Our elite warriors, you know? I wanted to be one. I cried when mother told me they only recruited women." He took another sip. "Then I became a warrior, and saw what actually happens in a war."

"Then let's stop it," Loki declared, draining his drink. "Let's stop the war." So what if it was the idealistic fantasy of a boy who was not quite 500? It felt real.

"If we can." Thor did the same. He was just following the man's lead.

"Let's start with this." Loki put his drink aside and kissed Thor.

Thor nearly dropped his glass on the floor. Again, this _deliberate_ , intimate kissing. He never remembered much of the kissing; he suspected there wasn't much of it. The only exception he could think of was Sif, but that had just been the two of them playing around, when they were children. There had been no tongues involved, there. He cautiously tried to press his own into the envoy's mouth.

There, he was getting the idea! Loki opened wide, stroking Thor's tongue with his own. It was hot, almost uncomfortably so, but that was exciting.

He was so _cold_! Thor fought the urge to warm him, but he pressed himself closer, even so. What did men do together? He was literally aching to find out.

__Loki tugged at Thor's clothing as they kissed. Why so many layers? Why make a body like this so difficult to expose?_ _

__"Uh, here. Like this." Thor undid the fastenings, breathlessly._   _

__"Why do you wear so much?" Loki asked, exasperated, tugging at the unfastened tunic, finding where it was redundantly wrapped on itself._ _

_" _I need to stay warm." The envoy's hands were cold, thrillingly so._   _

__"Inconvenient." Loki pushed Thor's tunic and cape off, then bent to the undertunic._ _

_" _Like I said; I don't do this a lot."_ _

__"I believe you. Not if it takes this long to get you naked..." Finally, Thor's upper body was bare. His muscles glistened in the low light. Loki stroked the smooth skin._ _

__Thor shivered. It was just hands; why should it feel this good?_ _

__It was ridiculously impressive, firm and sturdy, glowing in the low lamplight almost as much as Thor’s hair. Loki bent down to kiss a ruddy nipple._ _

__Frozen, like someone held an icicle to his chest. Thor gasped, reaching out on instinct. His hand caught the envoy's hair. It was like fine strands of silk._ _

__Loki pulled back. " _You_ take off the rest. I don't have all night." He undid his own loincloth._ _

__Thor was struggling with his pants - it was hard to push them down in his current condition - as so was bent over when he looked up and saw the envoy naked. He gasped._ _

__"What?" Loki asked, self-consciously. Was it his erection? Did it look _that_ different to Aesir?_ _

__Those scars really _were_ everywhere. Thor wanted to touch it; was that what they were supposed to do? Was that allowed? Remembering himself, he pulled his own pants down all the way, stepping free of them._ _

__"Good." Loki was relieved; their bodies were not substantially different from his people. Thor looked pleasingly, not painfully, thick. And that skin, so smooth everywhere...!_   _

__"Can I touch you?"_ _

__Asking... permission? "Uh... Yes?"_   _

__Nothing like his own. Well, why would it be? Thor ran a finger, very carefully, along the tip of the head, down the shaft. The scars just felt like any other scar; he had plenty himself. None as beautiful as these, though._ _

__Even though his touch was hot, Loki shivered. "Have you... seen many?" Not from the way he was looking at it..._ _

__"No."_ _

__"Oh." Well, some men were like that - only liked to penetrate, not deal with the other man's organ. "Well, here - unless there's something else you'd prefer to use?" Loki pulled a vial of oil from under his pillow. He always put it there as soon as he arrived in a room - this was a nightly need at least, even when it was only him pleasuring himself._ _

__"S... sorry." It was hard to say this, which those eyes boring into him. "I don't understand."_ _

__Loki paused. "Have..." this was impossible. "Have you never had sex with a man?"_ _

__Even with the envoy's body radiating cold, Thor was hot with embarrassment. "No. I'm sorry, I didn't think... I'll leave."_ _

__"No," Loki said, thoughtfully. "Stay."_ _

__"It's not going to work," Thor groused, louder than he'd meant to. "I know you think I'm good at sex because I'm good at fighting, and because I look like..." he waved his hands at his body, "this, but I'm just a stupid grunt, all right?"_ _

__"Then let this be the first thing I teach you." If he could tie this man to himself, make him indebted, take his virginity in a pleasing way..._ _

__"What; teach me how not to be a disappointment?"_ _

__"How to have sex."_ _

__"Why? Why would you want to!" He was nearly yelling now, face hot, eyes stinging._ _

__"Because I want to." Because this fiery monster would be brilliant with a few manners. He was already fantastic, rough as he was. Loki wanted to be the one to put on the final polish._ _

__"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. You... you make me want to..." He shook his head. He didn't even know how to _express_ it._ _

__Loki touched that hot cheek again. "Do you want to have sex?"_ _

__Thor closed his eyes. "Yes," he breathed._ _

__"Then come here." Loki sat in his bed._ _

__He could do that, at least. Thor sat down, just staring. That was good, too. The longer he stayed, the more he could _look_._ _

__The man was so stunning, such a solid, beautiful beast. Loki kissed him again for good measure._ _

__And that. He could do that, more easily by the moment. Thor liked to taste and feel, and he could do that well enough with his mouth and tongue, too. He tilted his head, and found that made things better._ _

__Ooh, that was nice! Loki pressed close to Thor, putting his arms around that solid torso._ _

__Cold, thrilling, and touching was allowed too, apparently. Thor put his hands around the envoy's face, feeling the strange patterns there._ _

__"Take care that you don't accidentally cast a spell," Loki said into Thor’s mouth with a smile._ _

__They could do that? Thor traced them more carefully, not letting his fingers dwell too long on any particular shape_ _

__"Just some of them." And not without intent, but doing _this___ , it was easy to get carried away.  
  
The hair was so soft! Smooth through Thor's fingers, like melting ice water. He dove into the kiss again, stroking it.  
  
Nobody had ever done that to Loki before. He moaned with pleasure, kissing Thor deeply, relishing the feel of Thor's big hands in his hair.  
  
Did he do that? Did he make him sound like that? Thor threw himself into the kiss, licking at the frozen insides of the envoy's mouth. His fingers tangled in his hair.  
  
Loki moaned again, spreading his legs and pulling Thor between them. Had he ever _wanted_ sex, like this? Not just enjoying it as much as possible when it was going to happen no matter what, but working so hard to _make_ it happen, for his own pleasure?  
  
That was better. More of their bodies was touching, now, skin against skin. Hot-cold and enticing. Thor gasped at the feel of it.  
  
"Here," Loki gasped into Thor's mouth. "Put some oil on your manhood. I'll open myself." A rare pleasure, to be able to take some time to prepare.  
  
Open... oh. _Oh._ Well, it only made sense, didn't it? And the oil might help... ease things. He opened the flask, trying not to think too much.  
  
Loki dipped his fingers into the bottle to slick them, then reached down, breathing carefully as he slipped in one finger, then two. This part generally felt good - but not, generally, _this_ good. Something about Thor watching changed the experience.  
  
Thor forgot to breathe. His hands were on his erection, still spreading the oil, but now he grabbed it, hard, as though on instinct.  
  
"Just another moment," Loki promised, working his fingers, meeting Thor's adoring gaze. It was addictive.  
  
"Can I try?"  
  
"Try..." Loki cocked his head, not comprehending.  
  
Thor flexed his fingers, moving a little closer. He'd never done anything near as forward as this to anyone. He put his slick hand on top of the envoy's.  
  
"Oh," Loki said, withdrawing his fingers with surprise. Thor wanted to - why?  
  
It was hard to concentrate, but his finger slipped in easily - the second, a little less so, but it was still less than his... well.  
  
Loki threw back his head and moaned. How was so much better when someone else did it? That little tingle of unexpected, the surprise of a movement that brought a _different_ thrill of pleasure than he was used to.  
  
He did that? He did that! Something like the surge of energy in battle came over Thor. He leaned forward, thrusting his fingers in. It was cold, but his fingers were warm, and together... it evened out.  
  
Loki opened his eyes, staring into Thor's stunning blue ones. The Butcher of Asgard had far better uses for his fingers than murder. "Now stretch," he managed .  
  
"Like this?" Not a lot of give, but the flesh yielded to Thor's touch. He found himself grinning.  
  
Loki exhaled. "Yes... good... very good." Strangely gentle, easing him open beautifully.  
  
What would it feel like to lick that chest? Thor gave it a try.  
  
Loki felt like he was melting, in more than one way. That hot tongue on his chest, so insistent. "Inside... now.”  
  
"All right." Seemed like something he could do. He pulled his fingers out, placing himself where they had been.  
  
"Slowly," Loki cautioned. "Slowly at first." He had never had the option of controlling it like this before!  
  
Thor responded, eagerly. This was like seiðr, but it did not slip away from him when he tried to do it.  
  
Just a little more give, another breath, and then, yes, Thor was inside. It was not a new sensation, but to have it this gentle, this slow, this… hel, this adoring – it was _addictive_. “Yes… like that… slowly!”  
  
Thor made a weak, surprised sound. So much sensation. It was never like this when he touched himself! It was overwhelming, and he feared he would lose control.  
  
"Now,” Loki panted, holding Thor’s hips tightly, “move… in and out. Slowly. Gods, slowly.” There were plenty of Jotun who were just as big, but all of this build-up, how much he _wanted_ Thor, wanted this to be good, the best experience of the Prince’s life - it intensified every sensation, the pleasure and the pain.  
  
Thor needed some sort of leverage. Leaning down, he grabbed the envoy's hips, and tried, very carefully, to do as he was told. He could be good. The cold was so intense it felt like heat, and the combined sensation made him see stars.  
  
This was nothing like sex Loki had experienced in the past. It had its moments, but this – dictating his own pleasure, calling the pace, making this gorgeous beast please him – gods, it was addictive. “Faster, now,” he gasped, letting go of Thor and leaning back against the pillows, gently stroking himself.  
  
Thor's hips seemed to know what they wanted. All he wanted was more of this; the pleasure and the incredible creature beneath him, in his hands. Surrounding him. He gasped, sinking in a little deeper on each thrust.  
  
"This is good," Loki sighed. "So good." A yellow-haired muscular _god_ doing as he asked, moving at Loki's command. He tilted his hips to let Thor press in more deeply, and cried out at the intense pleasure of the deep penetration.  
  
Grunting, Thor saw the movement, and lifted Loki’s hips even further. He had more room now; he was gasping and groaning as he kept pushing. Pleasure pooled in his groin, and he knew this wouldn't last of he didn't do something. But he didn't know what to do!  
  
Thor was speeding up. Well, if he were truly a virgin, he had done well. "You can come," Loki gasped, stroking himself faster.  
  
Thor met his eyes. They were shining with pleasure and want; so infinitely beautiful. Thor leaned down to kiss him.  
  
This was very, very different! Such a shy, sweet kiss from someone so brutal... Loki kissed him back, letting orgasm build, stroking towards it.  
  
Orgasm hit Thor almost by surprise. He couldn’t remember it being like this; so brutal, all-consuming. He yelled, thrusting deeply. Little blue bolts raced across his skin.  
Loki sped up his stroking, letting himself come, letting a sweet, potent orgasm take him. This was... this would be easy to get used to!  
  
Shuddering, Thor collapsed, only just remembering to catch his weight. The envoy looked sturdy enough, but he knew he had some weight to him. "Did I get that right?"  
  
Loki let orgasm finish thrilling through him, than sighed, opened his eyes, and touched Thor's face with his come-sticky fingers. "Excellent, for a first time." The man really had no idea - the raw elemental power in him, his facility for charm, how thrilling he was at sex... Loki _had_ to have him.  
  
"I want to do well. I want to please you."  
  
Loki nodded, firmly, decisively. "You will. Well will make peace, and we will be together."  
  
"Anything you want."  
  
"I want you to... um..." Loki pushed gently at Thor, nodding down to where the man was still inside of him.  
  
Oh! "Sorry," Thor stammered, awkwardly pulling out. He felt almost feverish.  
  
Loki put his arm around Thor and kissed him. Yes, he could get used to this. He could rule with this man.  
  
Thor kissed him back, wildly, winding his fingers back in his hair. He looked up at those majestic horns. He wanted to touch them.  
  
Loki closed his eyes with a pleased sigh. "It feels so good when you do that."  
  
"I'll keep doing it." He wanted to stay here forever. He let one hand stray up to the root of a horn, carefully skirting the edges.  
  
Loki shivered. "Oh!" That felt... Oh. Teasingly, tantalizingly thrilling.  
  
Thor started. "You like that?"  
  
"I... do that again... slowly."  
  
Not even daring to nod, Thor let his finger brush the horn again, very gently. Reverently.  
  
"It's... all dead at the top." A convenient handle, for some. "I didn't realize it was so sensitive _there_..." The living tissue at the base.  
  
Thor kept slowly running his fingers over it, just marveling at how this person could be possible.  
  
Loki settled back onto the bed, luxuriating in the delicious sensation.  
  
"You must have had many lovers."  
  
Loki's lip curled. "I've had sex with a fair number of men," he clarified.  
  
"Just men?"  
  
"Yes. Women don't want a defective as a mate." Loki didn’t want to get into it. He wanted to just enjoy this post-coital lassitude, the feeling of the Butcher’s oddly gentle fingers on him.  
  
"How in the nine realms are you _defective?_ "  
  
"Small. Weak." Loki tugged at his hair. " _This_."  
  
"You're neither. And your hair is beautiful."  
  
"That's what _you_ think. But what matters is what my people think."  
  
"Then stay with me." Thor heard the words as he said them, a little startled.  
  
Loki sighed. "I'm the prince. I can't."  
  
A prince? No one had mentioned that, though to be fair, if it had been in the overview Frigga had sent him, Thor hardly would have caught it. Well, what of it; surely he wasn't the only one. "But if you could, would you?"  
  
"This isn't my _home_." Too hot. Too strange. The looks people gave him, the gestures they made - this was not his home.  
  
No, of course it wasn't. And Thor could not leave. He was first in line to the throne. The only one in line. He sighed.

 

* * *

 

 

__The knock at Frigga's door was not a mild one. A warrior. She sighed - it was _very_ late. But she was Queen. She settled the robe around her shoulders. "Enter."_ _

__"Mother," Thor said, half an octave deeper than expected. He tried not to look surprised at the sound of his own voice._ _

__"Thor!" Frigga used seiðr to open the door. She swept over and touched his arm. At his age, hugs weren't always welcome. "A pleasant surprise." Thor hugged her, fiercely. Frigga hugged him tightly. This was not typical behavior, so open and forward and needing. "What happened, darling?"_ _

__"The envoy… The prince."_ _

__"The Jotun? You seemed to be getting along with him rather well!" It was pleasing to see._ _

__"I want to marry him."_ _

__Frigga swallowed a delighted chuckle. Oh, the number of people she wanted to marry at his age! "Why, love?"_ _

__"I love him."_ _

__"After one evening? He must be charming indeed. But that's his job." She emphasized the latter. Thor, poor boy, would be easily manipulated by someone canny who had a care to._ _

__"He's unlike anyone I've ever met. You've kept asking me what sort of person I want to rule with - mother, I want it to be him." His pulse was racing. The envoy hadn't thrown him out. He'd let Thor stay._ _

__Frigga sighed. "Thor, you're a prince. Your life is not your own. This is a hard lesson that I had to learn, that your father had to learn. Your life belongs to the throne. You will, when the time comes, marry a woman to give you heirs. You may not love her - I hope you can at least get along - but this is your duty."_ _

__"Women... give me no joy." He hadn't known there was anything else. Now that he did..._ _

__Frigga squeezed Thor's arm. "Then your duty will be more difficult."_ _

__"This... this is the only thing that has." He was shaking, a little. There had been a path, a clear goal, for the first time in his life. Now Thor felt it slipping._ _

__"You will find this more difficult than seiðr, my love," she sighed, kissing his cheek. "But it's even more important."_ _

__Anger. Deep, long-buried anger rose in his chest. His heart. All of him. Blue flickers ran along his arm and focused in his hand, becoming a bright, blue pyre. "What," he said, through gritted teeth, "am I left with, then?"_ _

__Frigga looked at his hand, startled. "Have you been practicing? How did you learn to do that?" Gods, she had tried so hard before giving up!_ _

__"I can't do seiðr, I'm too stupid for the academy; all I'm good for is killing - and now I can't have the one thing that has made me feel I was worth something more!"_ _

__"You're doing seiðr right now, Thor." The build-up of power was ominous. His eyes were starting to glow with an electric snap._ _

__Thor felt like he was going to explode. His skin crackled. The air smelled odd. He lifted his hands and yelled, startled._ _

__"Thor!" Frigga cried, feeling real fear. This was a dangerous amount of power for someone so green!_ _

__"Mother? Help me!" He couldn't stop it._ _

__There was no controlling this. But Frigga had to try. She took Thor's arms. "Look in my eyes," she commanded, casting soporific seið for all she was worth._ _

__It was terrifying. The lightning from Mjølner had never hurt, before, but he could _feel_ this. Heat, searing him. He tried to focus on his mother; her voice, her eyes. He tried to breathe. _ _

__A spark seared Frigga's hand, and she cried out in pain, her focus broken. The carpet was on fire..._ _

__and then it froze. She felt the touch of another sorcerer._ _

__Loki took in the scene, still panting from his dead run. The seiðr had shook the foundations of the castle! Thor was clearly out of control, why were they letting him stay conscious? Loki pushed _unconsciousness_ at him._ _

__"You," Thor smiled, before collapsing._ _

__Loki bent down, hands on his knees, panting with the effort of the run and the seiðr._ _

__Frigga looked up at the ambassador. He was panting from the run, and was naked. Marry him, indeed. It appeared the Jotun had helped Thor along with his little self-discovery about not liking women. That being said - he had saved Thor, and probably Frigga and a few others, too._ _

__Loki looked down. Little wisps of smoke rose from Thor’s supine body, a faint smile on his unconscious face. “You are unhurt?” he asked, looking back up at Frigga._ _

__“My hurt is minor,” she told him, formally. “I will call the healer for myself and my son.” She sighed. “Thank you for your quick action.”_ _

__She was looking at him oddly… oh gods, he was naked. He quickly put an illusion of clothing onto himself. “Then I beg your pardon for disturbing you, and will leave you in the hands of the healers.” He bowed._ _

__“Until we see each other again, tomorrow morning.” They had much to discuss._ _


	2. Chapter 2

"Mother!" Thor woke, suddenly, heart rushing with fear and instinct. The world was no longer blazing white-hot fire. He was whole. His skin still burned, and a touch lingered in his mind, but here, all was calm. His mother’s rooms? Yes, the gilded walls, the soft, dark carpets… 

"Thor, it's all right," Frigga replied, putting her bandaged hand placatingly on his arm.  She took a cool cloth from an ice bath with her other hand and put it to his forehead.

"When he touched me," Thor muttered, "it felt like that." Like ice-water, like crystal glaciers caressing his skin. The hand that touched his arm now, was not so soothing. Thor turned his eyes to it, shaking in horror. "I hurt you!"

It was a day of hard lessons for Thor.  Frigga ached for him. "Yes, Thor. You have more potent seiðr in yourself than I ever imagined.  We have to help you control it better, in the future."

"He stopped me, didn't he?" That same cool, soothing touch, but in his head, stilling everything. Letting him rest.

"Yes, dear, he did."  Frigga sighed. "I couldn't bring myself to do it, not to my son." Even though it was, in the cold light of hindsight, perfectly safe - the emotions took over.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't mean to.  But you did anyway." A key lesson of kingship.  "It is a very minor injury."

_You did, anyway._  It stung far worse than the healing burns. "It's never hurt me before,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

"You're an adult, now."  Just barely. "You're more powerful, and you're experiencing more extreme situations.  This will only happen more."

And he would hurt people. And it didn’t matter that he didn’t mean to. What an idiot, what an utter fool he’d been to think he was about to break free. He was more trapped than ever, by his own mind and body. "How do I control it?"

"Training and practice.  Just the same as how you learned to control your hammer and your fists." And he had _applied_  himself to that, hadn’t he.

Control his fists. There was a joke. "And then I go out there and use it to kill more Jotun."

This was interesting.  He never normally talked about one of his favorite pastimes with such bitterness in his voice.  Was it the influence of the Jotun who had come running so quickly, as if he had sensed Thor's eruption even before Frigga?  "Only if you want to," Frigga said, cautiously.

"I've never _wanted_  to. But as you say, I've hardly any choice." Perhaps they could set him down in the middle of the battlefield and let him burn everyone. A weapon of mass destruction.

"You will be king, Thor, and even now, you have more influence over your father than you know.  Our feud with the Jotun is long-standing and bloody, however." It would not be stopped in a day.

Thor shook his head. "I never wanted it. But I didn’t think there was anything else." And then he was told he'd been right the first time. 

Frigga looked at him thoughtfully.  "I think I failed you. I gave up too easily when seiðr did not work.  You haven't had instruction in history and diplomacy, and we do owe that to you."

Thor shrugged. "I don't have the brains for that." 

"And you don't have any seiðr in you," she said blandly.  "Except that you almost burnt down the palace.

"For a moment," he said, quietly, "I wanted to."

"I could feel it."  She returned the steaming cloth to the ice bath. "We need to feed your brain, as well, or it will also explode some day."

"He... said he could train me." Could he, still? After seeing what Thor could become?

Frigga sucked in a breath.  "Thor - you must be very careful with these offers.  He is a wily man with _his_ nation's best interest at heart.  Even if he only wishes to train you, with no other motivations," and Frigga did not believe that for one moment, "the perception of our people - and his! - would be that he has manipulated you."

"So." Thor lay back, his jaw setting. "Not only can I not marry him; I should not even spend time with him." 

"You can spend time with him, Thor - just... be wary.  Be cautious. Be thoughtful." Not his strengths. Frigga sighed and put the re-cooled cloth back to his head.

"He took me to bed," he muttered. Why not let it all out? If he could not master his own fate, or his body, at least he could master his words. 

Frigga froze.  "He..."

"Yes." How scandalous. "Uncouth of me to mention, I know." 

"You two had sex?" Frigga needed to be clear on this.

"Yes. We had sex." 

Frigga sighed, sitting back.  "This... this is problematic, Thor.  I need to speak with the All-Father."

"What business is it of his? I can't exactly get him pregnant." Thor didn’t even know his name. 

"No.  But it can breed other things."  Tangled alliances. Factions. Discord.

Thor gave up. A few hours. He had been allowed to be happy and content for a few hours. 

"A healer is on the way.  The sun has risen, I have business to attend to."  One of the first orders, meeting with this Jotun who had seduced her son and unlocked his powers. Then, the All-Father.

“At least tell me his name,” Thor yelled after her, as she rose.

Frigga smiled. “Loki,” she told him. “He is Loki Laufeyson, prince of Jotunheim.”

_Loki_. One thing, now. One thing that he had. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was rising over the spires of Valhalla, its rays reflecting and bouncing off the roofs of the city below. Everything was bathed in red-gold and amber, the clouds lined with soft coral. Odin stood on the terrace of his favorite rooms, drinking it all in.   
  
He closed his eyes. Still, after all these years, the land called to him. He was part of this world as much as the mountains and the trees, the lakes and the rimfall. It had been years since he'd given up all but the most mundane uses of seiðr, his mind too filled with dangerous things to allow that power free reign. But he still felt it; the surging power in his son, the pride of his mother, and her anxiety over something... he could not quite grasp. No matter; these things were so often trivial. At his age, most things were. He heard her footsteps and opened the door with a little seiðr of his own. He turned to greet her.

As always, the sight of the All-Father stirred conflict in Frigga's heart.  She had been taken as his wife when she was young, so young - too young to properly know what love was, and what it wasn't.  To some extent, yes, she loved Odin. They had lain together, and she had borne him a son (and a daughter before, although they did not speak of it), as was her duty.  Yet his frequent campaigns, his frequent affairs, his other children, and all taken so lightly by him - she had learned to let that pass, a sacrifice necessary for the Queen of Valhalla.  Frigga could chafe at it in her own time, but why? It only made her unhappy, to no purpose. "Good morn, husband."

"You seem troubled, my dear." He turned towards her fully, the radiant sun at his back. "Why? Aren't you proud of the boy?"

Frigga stepped inside and closed the door, choosing her words carefully.  "I am impressed with him. And concerned for him."

Odin chuckled. Concern was for the young. She had great potential, and it was finally showing in Thor, too. In Hela, it had shown too much. But Frigga had not yet learned that eventually, there are no surprises. He headed over to the table, where his servants had placed a goblet of fine wine mixed with juices. One grew weary of drink, in time, but ritual became all the more comforting. "He's grown into his powers, at last. He'll learn to control them, in time." He lifted the goblet, and drank deeply.

"His powers, concerning as they are without control, are not the greatest of my worries at the moment."  She swept over to the window, looking out over Asgard. The power Thor had demonstrated could have leveled a path out to the Bifrost.

"No? Then what is?"

"Our son has been spending a substantial amount of time with the Jotun ambassador.  This initially pleased me - but they have become... intimate."

"Loki? Laufey's boy?" It made a certain kind of sense. And why not; they could do worse than have the two be close and intimate friends.

"Yes."  Frigga sighed.  "He's apparently rather seductive."  Had he not been young enough to be her son, she might have been tempted herself.  It had been many years since she had taken a lover, and such a liaison would have been less fraught, at least, than this one he had taken up with Thor!

Well, he would be. "What of it? Ah - you're worried there might be jealousy between the two? My dear, you forget how little our son fraternizes with the staff. I'm sure any minor squabbles-"

Oh, by the Norns' loom.  "TOGETHER," she said firmly, interrupting him.  A privilege, she knew, a rare one. "They have had relations with each other."

Odin spat out the rest of his drink. "With..." He coughed, irritatedly wiping at a spill on his shirtsleeve. "Are you certain?"

"Thor told me, and the ambassador confirmed it." It had been a fairly tense meeting, and brief.

"That..." he fumbled for the back of his second favorite chair, "is unfortunate." Norns.

"Yes," she said blandly, "that is one word for it.  Thor wants the ambassador to instruct him in seiðr. Could our tenuous alliances be any more problematically entangled?"

"That is," he inclined his head, "one side of it, certainly."

"One side?" She raised her hands.  "Dare I ask the other?"

"Perhaps," he said, carefully, "it would not be so bad to let the boy instruct him. It might take their minds of other matters."

"I'm beginning to think you are mad.  Giving our son over to Jotunish influence, just as his power is coming into maturity."

"Frigga..." How even to begin to explain this. "Did something about the boy not strike you?"

"A great deal. He is small, for a Jotun.  He has hair on his head. He knows seiðr to a disturbing extent." 

She saw, surely?  "Yes. Rather striking, that hair. And the way he holds himself. His mannerisms."

"You're trying to lead me somewhere, All-Father.” She passed her bandaged hand across her forehead.  “I have had a trying night with little sleep; I would appreciate coming to the heart of the matter."

Odin sighed. "He reminds me, truth be told, of his half-sister." He looked Frigga in the eyes, deeply. Saw through her with his blind eye, searching for the memory. Yes, it was there.

Frigga twisted her fingers together.  No matter how often she stumbled across his infidelities, it always stabbed her achingly in the gut.  Not the fact that he _did_ ; that, she could live with. But that he never even bothered to tell her; that she simply stumbled across the evidence, years, decades, centuries later.  "A Jotun."

"Yes," he said, carefully. "It was during the end of the war."

She nodded.  What general hasn't impregnated a member of the other side of a violent, near-genocidal war?  "Was she willing?" Frigga asked, tightly.

"Frigga!" She had never shocked him before. He was impressed.

"I'm not a child, husband, I've seen plenty of war."  Entirely too much.

"You really think so little of me?"

"Odin, I just found out that you have a half-Jotun bastard - what, 400 years later? And you seem singularly unconcerned that your son and heir is bedding him?”

"Give or take." Norns help them if Laufey got word. He would use it for all it was worth. And considering the... particular circumstances… Odin turned away from her, his eye following the ravens outside the window. At any rate, change was coming. 

"What do you expect me to think, All-Father?  What suspicions could I have that you could rightly call unreasonable, now?"

She had him there. "I do not expect your forgiveness."

"We're not even to that yet - I merely wish to understand what happened!"  Her forgiveness was worth little to him. What she could provide was perspective and counsel.

"You may wish to sit down."

"After what I know already?"  This was a proper warning. Frigga walked over to a wooden stool worked in gold and jade, settling onto it.

"It was near the end of the conflict. There were negotiations, as you know. The Jotun are a hard people; their diplomatic functions are a far cry from this." He waved to indicate the ongoing event, though few meetings would be taking place this early. "Mostly, we sat and talked. For hours, with no sleep. There was," he shrugged, "a liquor of some sort. Green, I believe; rather pleasant. Then, there were other drinks. As the days wore on, tempers were frayed. We got at one another's throats." He paused, wishing he still had that drink. If nothing else, it would forestall what had to come, now. He looked down at his empty hand in dismay."Myself, that is, and Laufey."

"That is not shocking," Frigga noted.  "You and Laufey have ever been hot-blooded enemies."

"True," Odin leaned forward. He dared not stir Frigga's memories with seiðr again. "But what follows..."

Frigga sat quietly, her hand on her amulet, drawing strength and patience from it.

"Word turned to altercation. Fists. Hands. Then..." He sighed. It was not an unpleasant memory, but neither one on which he wished to dwell. "Must I go on?"

"You bedded Laufey."

"Too fine a word for it, but yes."

"So whence came the ambassador?" Frigga asked, her hand still toying with her necklace.

"He truly is Laufey's son. They are a different people."

Now that was a concept that took her breath away. "Men and women both, in one?  Like the dragons?" Switching as the need arose.

"Something to that effect." She flattered his knowledge of dragon physiology.

Frigga considered the implications as she sat.  "So Laufey made this boy ambassador, knowing that he is Thor's half-brother.  Yet the boy himself does not seem to know?"

"I cannot imagine he does."

"Why do you say that?  Would Laufey keep the boy's heritage from him, seeing how different he is?" Knowing it, all made so much more sense.

"You know how Jotun are. Two royal bloodlines means more power; potential political leverage. He would not simply hand that to the boy; he would keep it from him. Jotun do not suffer difference gladly. It is likely the boy was told he was a result of freak inheritance."

Frigga nodded thoughtfully.  "The poor boy." She looked up at Odin.  "Yet he is still seeking to influence our son, through tuition and sex."

"Well, the latter is unfortunate, as I said. But as for the instruction... who better to train him?"

"Unfortunate." Frigga pulled in a deep breath. An inadequate word.  "Sooner or later, husband, they will learn - and know that we let this continue?"

"Oh, we cannot let it continue. Surely you commanded him to stop?"

"He is not receptive to my counsel," Frigga said, carefully.  "I thought he would heed the All-Father more."

"He must." Odin rose, renewed of purpose. "I will not stand for him disrespecting his mother."

Frigga nodded in agreement.  "His power burst forth frighteningly last night." She held up her bandaged hand.  "If the ambassador had not intervened, I would have suffered worse."

"He struck you down?" Odin looked down, sharply. 

"He lost control," Frigga clarified.  "He was terrified of his own power."

Odin snorted. "He is young and foolish."

"And potent.  We need to help him control himself while he learns to do so."

"That is within your power." He let the words lay in the air between them, not quite a question.

She sighed.  "Yes, but I cannot do it alone, Not guarantee his safety - and ours - until he has more skill." She could not be at his side every waking hour, and certainly, at her age, she required sleep.

"Then, it is as I feared - we may need the boy's help after all."

Frigga nodded unhappily. "The ambassador is canny. I can’t trust him to not have undue influence on Thor."

"So keep an eye on him. I know you have ways."

Frigga met the All-Father’s eye in agreement. "I do. And I will make the ambassador aware that I am."

 

* * *

 

  
  
"I don't like it," Loki groused.   He didn't like that he had to stay here, where he was hot all of the time and the food was strange and the people made signs to ward off evil and crossed to the other side of the path when they saw him.  He didn't like having to tutor this man without having sex with him. And he didn't like that this beast was here, hissing a warning whenever he touched Thor. "I have to touch his hand to show him the motion!" he told it, testily.

"Just ignore it," Thor sighed.

"I can't," Loki grumbled.  "I want you, and they won't let me have you."

"Stop talking about it; you're making it worse."

"Impossible.  I already think about it all day and night.  Now focus, hold up your hand. Like..." Loki sighed, generating a glamour of Thor demonstrating the movement that he was trying to explain, "that."

Thor imitated the image with bad grace. He was past the point of caring. As far as he was concerned, Asgard could take its succession and shove it. But he had nowhere else to go; he'd made no friends close enough to trust with an escape. He was stuck here.

Loki stepped in front of him, eyes blazing.  "I said focus," he hissed. The last thing he was going to do was waste his time here on an uncooperative pupil!

Glaring back, Thor did the movement perfectly, daring Loki to comment.

" _Thank_  you." Loki sighed.  "Now, look at your fingernails." Any focus would do, but nails were handy.  "Think about pushing everything you have into them. All of your anger and frustration, right there."

Thor shifted his glare from Loki to his hand. _Father. This twice damned palace and its tedious court intrigue. Father, forbidding him Loki. The war._  He yelled, and the hems of his tunic caught fire.

Loki froze the edges of Thor's tunic.  Again. "It's leaking out of the sides.  Some part of you doesn't want to put it in your hand, because you're afraid you won't be able to control it.  But you can. You have to believe that."

"Why? They'll only use it as a weapon, anyway. I'm sick of it."

Loki leaned close to Thor.  Did the man truly not see? "They'll use you if you can't control it.  But if you can - you will be able to use it yourself. To make _them_  do what you want, to _get_  what you want."

Thor frowned. "You're talking about a coup." People died in those, as much as they did in any war. His freedom was not worth Mother’s - or even Father’s - life. 

Loki wanted to put his hand on Thor’s shoulder, but considering that he was being spied upon, he merely stepped closer, his cold breath on Thor’s ear.  "I'm talking about the rightful heir taking his throne! Your father will not live forever. Who will take over, if not you?"

"Right; so, a coup."

Loki sighed, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Such an ugly word.  I prefer to think of it as 'taking control of your destiny.' Or would you rather one of your father's advisers did?"

"I wouldn't give him the satisfaction."

Good.  That was a critical line.  "Do you want to be with me?"

"What's the point; we can't."

"If you believe that, it is true. If you want to change it, work with me." Loki stepped in front of Thor.  He wasn't used to people wanting him, like Thor did, but damned if he wouldn't use that to get what he wanted.   _Thor_. "Do you want this?" Inside, where it was so hot to start with and Thor frequently set things on fire, Loki had taken to wearing only a loincloth.

"You know I do." Thor looked away. "Stop asking."

"Then show me.  Work for it. Show me that you're not just going to take what your parents are dictating."

"I can't!" Lightning streamed from his hand in a perfect cone, controlled and steady.

Loki grinned wickedly.  "Yes, you can. Look!" To hel with the tapestry Thor was burning, they had plenty.

Thor grabbed Loki’s waist and pulled him close, their faces nearly touching before he knew what he was doing.

The cat yowled.  Loki didn't care. He pressed his lips to Thor's, grabbing the man’s shoulders, rational thought taking second place to his _want_.

The cat jumped onto his back, hissing and scratching, clawing at his skin. "Get off him!" Thor swatted at it.

Loki stumbled back from Thor. "Hel! Fine! I'm off!"   
  
The cat, satisfied, hopped nimbly off of Loki and onto the ground. It trotted back to the window, leaped onto the sill, and stared levelly. Thor scowled at it. "Know any stunning spells?"

Loki wiped at the cuts on the back, feeling wetness.  "Ugh. Yes, but Frigga would notice that her little spy is offline..." The idea had legs, though. "Let me think this through. I need to go lie in the snow for a bit." The gouges in the back of his shoulders had put him over the line.

"Will you be all right?" Those cuts looked deep, and Jotun healed differently than Aesir. Thor would know. 

"I'll be fine," Loki said, shortly.  He turned to leave, and the cat hopped down to follow. "Good idea," he snarled at it.  "You never can tell when I'm going to make a portal from the snowbank to His Highness's prick."

"Loki," Thor hissed. His mother might be listening in.

"I'm not an ambassador anymore.  I don't have to be polite." Loki wrenched open the door and stalked down the corridors, ignoring the sort of looks that a six-foot-plus blue nearly-naked horned man with claw marks on his back would get in Valhalla.

Thor sat down on the floor. Then, defeated, lay down completely.    
  


* * *

 

Frigga walked across the snow that lay thick and cold on the palace grounds, a cool white blanket for the earth to sleep under until Freja woke it again.  The holes of long strides marked a path that lead to a blue form half-buried, arms and legs spread in the snow. Frigga strode close enough to look down at Loki.  She could understand the appeal to her son, truth be told; elegant, graceful, a quick mind, and a tongue so sharp it was a delight to get stabbed by it, sometimes.  But this was not tenable. Thor had been making such progress, and then to have Loki storm out…

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.

Loki opened his eyes, looking at her levelly.  “A bit better. The snow helps with where _your familiar_  clawed me.”

“She would not have done so if you had not touched my son inappropriately,” Frigga noted, calmly.

Loki sighed, closing his eyes and rolling his head away in annoyance.  After a beat, he looked back at her. “Inappropriately. I want it. He wants it.  We are both more than old enough. Why is his mother stepping in to forbid it?”

“We have our reasons,” she sighed.  No blood of hers, but… reality was complicated.  And Odin had spoken.

“Terrible reasons,” Loki shot back.  “So Thor needs a wife and an heir. Get him a wife and an heir.  It wouldn’t be the first time in history that Asgard had a king with a wife and a consort.”  If his red eyes had been daggers, she would be bleeding out. “Or many consorts.”

It was meant to be a sting, but the context that Loki was unaware of made Frigga want to laugh without humor, a painful, knowing laugh.  How well she knew - and on so many levels. She swallowed it, instead noting, “That is not the principal reason.”

“Well, what is it, woman?  If there is a good reason, tell me.  If not, let us be together.”

The insolence was new, since Loki had been assigned to Thor, but it had been near-constant.  He had shed the job of diplomat like an old ripped tunic, and Frigga was certain that this was his true nature shining through.  It suited him.

“It is not for me to say.”

Loki sat up, shaking snow off of his torso.  “Who, then? Who can say? Who bears the knowledge of this,” Loki waved, overselling it, “great secret that forbids two men from enjoying each others’ company?”

“King Odin, the All-Father,” she replied, simply.

Loki struggled to his feet, wincing as his flesh moved around the claw lines where Trjegul had left her mark.  “I want to speak with him.”

Frigga stopped to consider the idea.  It made a great deal of sense, really.  Father and son. Odin could decide how much or how little to tell his child, and either way, his word was law.  “I will arrange it.”

Loki made a sarcastically elegant bow. “Thank you, dear lady.”  He reached out to clap her on the back – and his hand went right through.

“It is death to touch the King or Queen without permission,” she noted.  “Have a care.”

“You’re an excellent witch,” he said with grudging respect as she faded away.   


 

* * *

Loki stood in Odin's antechamber, working his hands, trying not to pace.  His formal sash - folded from his left shoulder to his right hip - chafed, and he kept catching himself tugging at it where it touched his throat. He glared at a guard, who kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, impassively.  Loki sighed. This had better be some damnably important business of Odin's that was keeping Loki waiting.

Finally, at some unseen signal, the guard stood aside, and the door immediately opened. Loki snapped upright, hands behind his back, looking firmly ahead.

"Come in, boy!"

The voice was booming, if a little lighter than one might have imagined. _Boy_. Loki stalked in with ground-eating strides.

Odin stood atop the platform where his throne would be, were this the throne room. It was not, but built quite similarly, for effect. There were no chairs, the only windows high atop the walls, angling the light just so. "Loki Laufeyson."

Loki looked around the room. Clean, bright, quiet, no sign of anything, any business. Loki bit his lip with annoyance.  "Odin. Son of somebody, I'm assuming."

Nodding gravely, Odin moved just a little to the left. The sun was getting in his eye. "Aren't we all." 

Loki had no time for pleasantries. "I want your son. He wants me. Why do you stand in our way?"

"Bold words." Not surprising, perhaps. Yes, he saw himself in the boy, but also his other father. In more way than one, it had not been a bad match. A pity he had not taken the boy himself, to raise as a true prince of Asgard. He was, in many ways, a better fit for the throne than Thor, and all of this romantic nonsense would have been avoided. 

"And do you have any words to match? Or just distractions and runaround like Frigga?"  Loki was as taut as a drawn bowstring, and he would snap and fire with little provocation.

"There is potential in you. A fair bit of ambition too, I should add. I would give you a word of advice: Consider very carefully what questions you ask, and the answers they may yield." He took a step down, his face darkening. A nice touch, he'd always felt. "For your audacity, I will give you a choice: Accept my word, and that of my queen. Leave here with your name, your position and your future intact. You can go far, and there is much I could do to help you get there. Or," he paused, waiting for the exact right moment, "Get the truth, at all costs, and risk the consequences."

"This is supposed to be a choice, All-Father?” Loki’s lip twisted.  “I do not need your support in Jotunheim. I would be there now, if I didn't love your son. Should I lie in happy, intentional ignorance? I'd sooner die."

"Then on your head be it." Love? An odd turn of phrase. Well, he was but a child. He would use the words of children. "He is your brother."

Loki paused. Then laughed without humor. "Funny. Well, not really, but I can tell you're trying."

"I know you can see my intentions, boy. Examine my mind." Would he dare? That, in itself, was a test.

Loki stepped close, licking his lips. "I have your permission, All-Father?" This was still the King of the Nine Realms, the God over all the Gods, after all, a very intimidating presence.

"Are you scared, boy? I don't blame you."

"Fear in moderation facilitates survival."

He was still meeting Odin's gaze! Afraid, yes, but so brazenly defiant. What wasted potential; and for what? "Then see."

Carefully, deliberately - maybe a little hesitantly - Loki put his fingers to Odin's lined face, and _opened_  himself.

It was different from the typical experience. Loki was used to the raw stuff off memories, sights and sounds and feelings, a visceral immersion. This had no sight or sound, just the vague smell of sun on wood, the taste of an ancient library. And one crystal-clear fact - _you are my son_.

That _couldn't_  be all. Just one scintillating, context-less thought? Loki pressed _deeper_.

_Bright, endless light; the color of pain, the sound of endings. Odin's face, not his face; his voice, his being. Unbearably hot, like a candle flame. The taste of numbers. The feeling of raw air, and being pushed out of himself - endless access to the knowledge of the cosmos. All of it, unfiltered, pouring into his mind._   Loki's brain was battered, tossed, plunged into the depths of the ocean, pushed into the impossible weight of a dying sun.  He thrashed, trying to find something, anything, to grasp onto.

_"TAKE IT." Dark brightness, surrounding him. "IF YOU SO DESIRE; TAKE THE KNOWLEDGE YOU SEEK." Levels of pain dipping into pleasure so intense it hurt. Secrets of ancient seiðr, spinning just out of reach. Revealed to him all at once.  "IT IS RIGHT HERE."_   Everything Loki could ever have dreamed of. Power unimaginable. He reached for it, grasping, embracing, willing himself to it.

It would not stop. Facts, sigils, spells, never-ending words and chants in languages older than time. It was... it was too much.  Loki's brain was on fire, pummeled with knowledge and experience, forcing itself inside of a too-small container. Somewhere, he was screaming.

_"Wake, now."_

"Guh!" Odin's hand was on his face. All was still. Loki staggered backwards, eyes wild.  His own brain felt too small. His eyes were seeing only what was in front of him, right now - too limited, so claustrophobic he wanted to burst out of his own skin.

"Satisfied?"

Satisfied.  Satisfied! He knew, now, as clearly as he had ever known anything, and it was horrifying.  "How could you!" Loki hollered, eyes blazing.

"How could I? How dare _you_." To even attempt to invade his mind; none other had tried, and lived. That the boy had survived was to his credit, and Odin bore him no ill will. He would have smiled, if that was his way. It was not.  

"How could you offer to _not tell_?  We had _sex_! If I had taken the other choice, if I had stayed ignorant, I would have moved the Nine Realms and invaded Hel to have him again!" Loki pulled in a shuddering breath.  "My _brother_!”

"And yet, you chose this."

"If I could have chosen to know _before_ , I would have!” Before he had bedded… his _brother._   “Gods, why did you not _tell me_?" And why had _Laufey_  not told him? Loki's eyes stung.

"I did not know."

"You knew by the time I was here," Loki accused. Before he had been taken by _his brother_.

"I had my suspicions."

"I should have!" Loki cried out.  " _Idiot_  that I am, I thought I had an Aesir form because I was _good at seiðr_!" He changed to it, feeling so deeply in his bones, finally, that it was _real_. Not an illusion, not a glamour or a seeming.

Odin took a step back. So much like his sister, it was uncanny. And that raw power, the unyielding will, the surge of emotion!

Loki paused, feeling a vision wash over him, a tendril from Odin that had not yet fully severed.  A figure of immense power, graceful, sexual, deathly, a dark knife of a god. "Who is that?" he asked, quietly.

He had seen it? A mind-image, even after the severing? What power dwelled in this young mind? Against his better judgement, Odin was beginning to worry. "That... is none of your concern."

"Really?" Loki spread his arms.  "Even if I accidentally find myself having sex with her some day?" he asked, tartly.

How could he know? Had Odin's control slipped to such a degree that he had let slip not only her aspect, but her essence? "I will not stand for such insolence."

Loki shook his head.  Threats, now? "And what will you do to stop my mouth?  Kill me? Banish me?"

"Expose you."

"As what, and to whom?" Loki asked, cautiously.  The options were depressingly myriad.

"For reasons I'm sure are his own, Laufey has chosen to keep you in the dark about your heritage. I can only guess at his reasons. You enjoy some autonomy and power - what would you have, if they knew you were half Aesir?" The opposite of what he had argued to Frigga, which was surely the truth, but in his youthful outrage, Odin guessed the boy would not be able to tell.

Loki's mouth worked.  He laughed without humor. "You are a cruel man, King Odin.  I thought you were a man grown soft in his old age - but you _want_  us to think that, don't you."

"I am a politician."

"And a proper one."  Loki hung his head in despair.  "Then I will do as you wish. Tutor _my brother_ and explain to him why we cannot..." be together.

"No. He is too righteous to bear the thought of having fornicated with his own brother." Odin let the implication hang in the air. "It would ruin him. You must make him think you're no longer interested."

Loki shook his head fiercely.  "You _cannot_  ask that of me.  Ask me to stop breathing first."

"As you wish." An easy seiðr, this. Pressure his neck-muscles just-so...

Invisible hands, forcing his neck closed... Loki wheezed, tearing at his throat with his nails, trying to displace hands that weren't there.

"Changed your mind?"

Death, or march down and tell Thor he no longer wanted him, forever.  It was a difficult choice. Loki hesitated, and fell to his knees, stars blurring his vision.  _Please don't make me do this..._

Was the boy actually going to call his bluff? Impossible! "You would rather die?"

"I yield," Loki wheezed, hating himself.

"Very well," Odin tried not to let relief show in his voice. "We are in agreement."

Loki fell to his hands and knees, sucking in deep lungfuls of air.  "At least... let me return to Jotunheim... please." Not see _him_ every day, wanting him, thinking Loki hated him.

"In time."

Loki looked up, his eyes red with held-back tears.  "Time?"

"Teach Thor well, and once he is fully in control of his power, you may return. You are, you appreciate, in a unique position to understand him."

"I can't do this, father.  I just _can't_. Don't ask this of me!"

"His mother," Odin said, pointedly, "was not able to help him. If you leave, what do you think will happen?"

Loki clasped his hands, working his fingers worriedly, settling back on his knees and lowering his head.  "It can't all rest on me. It _can't_." There must be somebody, anybody else?

_He is only a boy,_  said a familiar voice in his mind. Odin tried to shoo it away, but she was right. "All right - one week. Ægir, my master brewer, will be presenting this season's ales, and the Jotun delegation has been invited to attend. Get Thor ready by then, and you may leave."

Bounded, at least. One week. "Yes, All-Father. For one week, I will do all I can."

 

* * *

 

Loki walked unsteadily out of Odin's presence, careful to note where each foot touched the ground.  He couldn't believe people were walking around just like they had been - as if the world were still the same, as if gravity and the sun were not now fundamentally altered.

He kept his Aesir form.  It was a reminder of who he was, now, and who he was related to - and yes, it was more suited to this environment.  With only the glamour of clothing over his sparse Jotun clothing, he was actually _cold_.

He would have clothing made.  The layers and layers that the Aesir wore, thick hide and cloth to keep the cold at bay - and to keep his skin and his desire wrapped firmly up inside.

In good time.  For now, he had to go back to his room, sit in a corner, and let the world collapse around him.

 

* * *

 

A voice from outside of his door.  “Thor!”

Thor sprang up. Loki! He ran over to the door and opened it, excitedly.  Loki stood there - in his Aesir form, fully clothed. The cat was gone, which was as strange as what Loki was wearing, but Thor wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He pressed his mouth closed to burst out with all the things he wanted to do while they could - maybe they could?

Loki looked down, picking at his fingers.  "I'm... I'm still supposed to teach you. But I... we... I d... don't want to do anything else with you anymore.  I... just had... wanted to come tell you."

Thor, who had been ready to pull him in through the door and right into his bed, felt his mouth drop open. "What?"

"That's all."  Loki stared fixedly at his fingers.

"Why?" Thor's hair fell in front of his eyes. He angrily pulled it back.

"I don't... know... no, I mean... no good reason.  I just don't."

"I thought you liked me."

"I do!" Loki belted out, then pulled it back, "just... the physical..." Suddenly, an idea dawned.  He didn't know if it was a great or a terrible one, but damn it all, he had nothing. "I'mJoiningAReligiousOrder."

"A _what_?"

"A... Jotunish religious order.  But they require celibacy."

"What, just now?" He'd only been gone three hours.

"I submitted my candidacy before I left Jotunheim," Loki adlibbed, glibly.  "I just received word from King Laufey that I was accepted, but have to begin the purity rituals.  You can ask the All-Father, one of his ravens relayed the message." Let Odin deal with his mess.

"Oh." Thor deflated, entirely. "OK." Just more of the same really, wasn't it? He was nothing special.

"It will... it will help with my legitimacy.  You know, with me being a freak." If only there were such an order!

"I still don't think you're a freak." Not that it mattered, one way or another.

"And if I were only ruling you, that would be enough." Loki exhaled.

"Is..." He didn't know why he was asking; he knew what the answer would be. "Can't you... just once? One more time?"

Loki shook his head, sadly.  "I'm under a geas, now."

"Oh," Thor said again. "Can you still train me?" He hoped he didn't look as pathetically yearning as he felt.

"Yes!  Of course, I want to... that's what... I want to do that."

"I won't bother you about this, or anything. I'll try to do better." _I just want to be with you._

Loki sighed.  This... this wasn't horrible.  Well, all right, it was fairly horrible, but at least this specific bit wasn't any more horrible than the rest already was.  "I know you will. You're really good at this. I like being with you..." too much. Knowing that Thor was his brother, Loki was still tempted.  There was something twisted in him. Jotun and Aesir, he pondered, were not meant to mix.

Thor flushed from his head all the way down to his groin, if such a thing were possible. He'd never been praised like that before by anyone. And coming from Loki...!

"I just wanted you to be the first to know."  Loki exhaled, feeling like... he had not quite dodged the arrow, but it was lodged in a non-lethal part of his body, at least.  "We'll have our lessons again tomorrow, as we have been?"

"Yes. I'll do better, this time. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't."

"You're so nice to me. Why are you still nice to me if you don't want to bed me?"

_I do want to bed you.  I'm a horrible person_.  "I love you," he mumbled.

Thor heard the words. They didn't make sense. "Like... like a brother, then?"

Loki shivered.  "Um. Sort of, I suppose."  Like no brother should love another.

"That's nice. I've never had a brother."

"N... no.  But maybe you will, in the future?"

"I think Mother is beyond those years," Thor said, taken aback.

_Odin isn't_  would be a proper response, Loki thought, but was in no mood to snark about that.  "I suppose you're right."

"Anyway, thanks for letting me know. I guess."

"I'm sorry." More than you know.

Thor hugged him, feeling a warm Aesir body under the illusion of clothing. No sounds of angry cats, he thought, wryly.

Hesitantly, Loki put his arms around the big man. Damn him, he still wanted Thor. So badly. There was something very wrong with him.

"Thank you."

"Don't, I'm selfish."

Thor smiled, and pulled back a little. He held out his hand, palm up. "I've been practicing a little." A tiny coil of electricity rose from the center, curling in on itself at the top, then fizzled away. Thor frowned in irritation.

"Oh!" Loki enthused, stepping inside of Thor's room and taking his hand, talking too quickly, without pauses. "That's really good, it's the next step, look, there's a balance point, you just need to focus higher..." He tried to draw it back out with his other hand.  Thor had been practicing!

"Show me." Keep holding my hand and smiling and talking to me and looking like that. The blue sparks rose, drawn to Loki as much as he was.

Loki held his hand over Thor's, enticing those sparks, drawing them _up_. Gods, they felt like Thor, a pure extension of _him_... "The more power, the higher the balance point.  Like... like a lever. So this much will stay _here_  if you let it..."

"How do I 'let it'," Thor huffed in frustration.

"Where it is, now. Don't _pull_ it back or _push_ it out.  Just be..." Loki risked touching that snapping power, " _here_."

"Be here," Thor muttered, lost in the closeness of his and Loki's bodies. He could feel him through the lightning in his hand. It didn't hurt him. Carefully, the flickers moved over to Loki's fingers, as though tasting them.

Loki exhaled with relief. There was power to level cities in Thor, he could _feel_  it, now. If the man could make it not even sting - that boded well. "Excellent." Loki smiled.

"You make it so easy."

"You had it in you all the time." Thor’s eyes glowing now, too, Loki noticed. So much power in one man. Exciting and terrifying. Then the flickers wound their way up Loki's arm, caressing it. Exploring the grooves in his skin.  Loki froze. Now that was frightening - like letting a curious Kur-beast sniff you, knowing they can smell fear. Breathe. Act normal. Don’t move.

"What's wrong?" Loki was staring, his eyes wide. Was Thor doing it weirdly?

"Nothing... you're controlling it well," Loki managed. No startlement, no surprise, or the lightning would snap back to Thor, burning Loki - and Loki was quite susceptible to burning.

Not weird; _bad_. Thor was hurting him. Thor didn't even have to think it - the lightning pulled back into his hand, flickering out harmlessly. Never again, _never_  that again! He shivered, lips trembling.

Loki exhaled with a huff of relief. "You're... you're very powerful."

"Doesn't feel that way." If he were, he could take them both away from here.

"That - what you were showing me - could have leveled Asgard. And I'm not even singed." Did Thor understand what that _meant_?

"What,  _that?_ "

"Yes, that. You had it perfectly under control."

"I just wanted to show you what I could do. And I didn't want to hurt you."

"You did. And you didn't. I'm not the least bit hurt." Loki was staring at Thor's hand, a little stupidly.

"It's just seiðr, isn't it? Like you can do?"

Loki shook his head. "I couldn't do that. Your seiðr controls it, but the power - that's _you_."

"Oh." The distinction had never been clear to Thor, before. Mother had probably tried to explain it, he thought guiltily.

"I only have the power to deceive.  Hence my illusions." And his facility for lying well. "You have power to destroy."

Thor looked at his hands. He remembered his mother, screaming... "I was so angry," he thought, considering.

"Just now?" Thor seemed calm...

He shook his head. "No, when I was with mother." He looked up, remembering suddenly. It all felt rather like a dream, still. "You were there. You stopped me!"

"Oh, then. Yes. I won't apologize for knocking you out, you were set to destroy something. Like Valhalla."

"I think I wanted to."

"Don't.  Burning things down isn't always the right thing, and I like your mother." Despite everything.

"I do, too." Thor sat down on his bed. He had to think this through. He wasn't used to that.

"It's always more complicated than you might think," Loki said, carefully.

"Yeah, well, I'm not very good at thinking."

"You'll just have to practice. Like seiðr."

"Can you teach me that, too?" He was half-joking, but looking up at Loki, he wondered if he could. Just speaking to him made his mind work differently.

Loki spread his hands helplessly. "I don't know.  I _had_  to learn it, when I was young, to get by.  I guess I practice it with strategy games?"

"Uh..." Thor didn't want to say he didn't know what that was. He didn't want to feel any more stupid than he already did.

"We could try that?  Chess?"

"You'd have to teach me." He blushed.

"I can do that."  More opportunity to pine for _his brother_ while sitting across from him.

"You say you're mean, but you're nothing but nice to me." He put a hand on Loki's shoulder.

"I don't know why." Thor disarmed him utterly.  It wasn’t good. It wasn’t healthy, and it did not bode well for being an effective king.

"You changed my life," he said, simply.

"I love you," Loki sighed, resigned.

"Then why can't you be with me!"

"Maybe... In the future..." When your parents think you can handle the truth, when we can be together, at least, as brothers.

"When your... religious thing is over?"

"Yes." Convenient excuse. Maybe Loki _should_  join a religious order. But one that allowed drinking and fornication.  He felt an acute need for both, the latter more than the former.

"I want that." Just the thought of it was making him excited. 

Loki nodded. "Good. I didn't... I don't want to lose you." I just need to learn how to think of you nonsexually.

"If... if you don't want to do anything _else_ ," Thor swallowed, "you should probably go."

"I shouldn't." Loki stood, hating himself for wanting it.

Loki looked like he wanted to kiss him. Surely that wouldn't hurt? Thor rose, taking a step toward him.

"I should go." Loki tried to pull his gaze away.

"You don't want to, do you?"

Loki huffed a pained laugh. "No. But I have to."

"Then go now, because I'll be taking my trousers off in the next second."

Loki ran to the door and ripped it open. _My brother. My brother_. Hel and damnation.

Thor sighed. He had no idea what was going on, but then again, he rarely did.

Loki slammed the door and leaned against it, panting.

 

* * *

 

The moment the door closed, Thor had his trousers open, flinging himself down on the bed. If this was how most men and women wanted one another, no wonder there was so much of it going on! No other woman _or_ man had affected him like Loki did. Maybe it was the difference in their bodies; Aesir and Jotun, but Thor had seen enough Jotun to discount that idea. 

He leaned back against the soft furs and pillows, working his hand on the erection he’d had since the moment Loki had knocked. He kept looking at the door, as if one moment it might fly back open and send Loki back to him, across the room and into his bed and his arms. Aesir, Jotun; he didn’t care.

Thor did not love him like a _brother_. Not at all.


	3. Chapter 3

The grand hall of Valhalla was revered in song and legend, a destination for heroes, spoken of in awed tones by warriors and scholars alike.  A place of brave talk and great deeds, a hall of the finest bards and stoutest sword-arms.

It smelled.

Loki stood at the entrance, letting the odors of sweat, old beer, blood, and boar fat pummel him until he was acclimated.  At least his Aesir form did not mind the heat.

Not that he looked like his Aesir form.  He needed another layer of deniability, and so a glamour covered him.  A young boy, not yet shaving, with faintly olive skin and curly brown hair - fit and mature enough to tempt a man, and young enough to make him feel a little guilty about it.  Loki stepped into the room, looking around for a proper mark. Preferably a large, blond one. He was aching to distraction with need, and this would be the fastest way to sate it.

A man caught Loki's eye. Large, golden, in immaculate armor, with... striking eyes. Loki was immediately attracted to him, with an almost literal magnetism. He slid onto the bench at the massive table next to the man. "Hello," he said, affecting a shy young boy.

"Hello," the man said, his voice dark and level. "You must be new here."

"Yes, sir, I am," Loki replied. "Ogdall is my name; I have just joined the Guard today. After hard travel this past week and exercises today, I had hoped for some... wine, or beer?"

"Well, there's plenty for the taking." The man gave a smile, the same way a cliff face might.  Or a mountain.

The man's attention was like the sun shining through dark stormclouds. "Perhaps you could show me how things work around here? I'm very far from home..."

"You don't say..." He seemed amused, looking at Loki over the rim of his enormous goblet.

"Very far. You are Asgardian?" He wasn't Thor, but he was probably the second most appealing man in Valhalla.

"Well spotted."

"What do you do for amusement around here?" Loki was not about to spend the whole night flirting.  It had its appeal, but that was not what he needed right now - raw and wanting and _not allowed Thor_.

Indicating the room around them, the man gave a mock toast. "You're looking at it. Unless, of course, you have something more private in mind."

"If I did," Loki said with a little smile, "would you be interested?"

"It's certainly an interesting proposition."

"Is that a yes?" Loki found himself hoping so. This man was attractive in a host of ways.

"Eager, aren't you? _Yes_ , boy. I will take you home with me, if you wish."

"You're the type to make a boy eager." Loki smiled at him.

Draining the rest of his drink, the man rose. "Come along, then."

Loki leaped to his feet. He liked this. No nonsense, no dancing around the obvious. Sex was wanted by both, sex would happen. "Yes, sir."

The man was taller than might even be expected from his bulk, and his stride was long to match. He walked briskly out of the hall, and down into the myriad corridors of the palace.  Loki followed him, taking in the man's size, his broad shoulders, his aggressive stride. He would distract Loki nicely.

A door just over the size of the man himself, and one and a half times as broad stood before them. The man opened it. "Are you sure?" He looked at Loki, meaningfully.

"I would like to spend the night with you.” Loki smiled coyly.  “Or at least the evening.”

The man held the door open, invitingly.  Loki walked in, shedding his cloak. He had pulled together enough real clothing to take most of it off convincingly.

The man took off his helmet, and placed it on a table. He gave Loki an unreadable, impassive look. His hair was beautiful, long and thick and in orderly, ornate plaits.  His eyes were utterly stunning, as gold and perceptive as a cat’s. They matched his grace. Loki stepped close, reaching up to touch his face, to kiss him.

A hand on his chest, holding him fast. Not uncomfortably, but quite firmly. "Oh, young Laufeyson..."

"How do you know my name?” Loki asked, falling back into a defensive stance.

Quite a stunning youth, Heimdall thought, with qualities transcending those of both his parents. He had Odin's keen mind, but sharper, with a clearer sense of purpose... no, of right and wrong. His passion was Laufey, through and through, tempered with an Aesir sensibility. He had the resilience of a Jotun, and an interesting variation on their flexible bodies and malleable flesh. Did he even know? He might not, Hemdall reasoned. He had mastered the Aesir form, taking after his sister in startling ways, but importantly, not in others. Still only a child, but at that dangerous age when he thought he no longer was. He sympathized with the boy, and the unfair and impossible situation into which Odin had placed him, but Loki had to learn that certain actions had dangerous consequences. Heimdall stepped forward, applying just the lightest of pressure, knowing it would feel like a hammer on his chest, bearing down on him.

Loki cried out in surprise, falling onto his back.  Was this one of those men who reacted violently to the idea of sex with other men?

"It is not wise to allow strange men to take you home, boy." Heimdall leaned down, getting a closer look.

At least Loki would go down with a fight. "This boy bites," he snarled, pulling out his dirks and slashing at the other man.

A little distracted by the daggers, it took a moment before the vision cleared for Heimdall. He let the boy cut him, delving into his memories; saw a young, confused boy, not understanding, wanting but inexperienced, and older men twice his size- He staggered back.

Loki leaped to his feet. "If you don't desire boys," he snarled, swinging his dirks menacingly, "don't take them home with you. Let them bed someone else in peace."

"I am sorry." An understatement, by far. "I didn't know. I thought you were-" An innocent? He was, at that. Jotun, Heimdall knew, were no worse or better than other men in this regard; there were Aesir children who suffered similar fates. Still, he could not help but reason, had the prince of Asgard been treated such, the lives of those who’d hurt him would be forfeit.

"Unable to defend myself?" Loki stepped forward. "Is that the sort you typically prey upon?"

"I misjudged the situation, badly." He held his hands out in a gesture of peace, though he doubted the boy would trust him. He'd given him little reason to, after all. "I am Heimdall, guardian of the Bifrost. I mean you no harm."

"You expect me to believe that?" Any of it?

"No,” he sighed, “I've given you no reason to."

"Why did you bring me here, then? I just wanted some companionship." So to speak. A lovely man with a lovely member to sate his needs.

"I know of your connection to the prince, and I'm aware of the burden the All-father has placed on you. I was concerned that you would meet with an accident, and foolishly underestimated your skills and experience." A half-truth. A kind one, he hoped.

"An accident?  Like you?" Loki snarled.

"I intended," Hemdall sighed, with some annoyance at himself, "to frighten you off. I saw a young, inexperienced man who might get himself into trouble. My loyalty is to the prince, and he would not fare well if you were hurt."

"I'm _doing_  this to not hurt him - or me."

"I see that now, and you have my apologies."

Loki sighed and put his dirks away.  "Then let me go and find someone _else_  to sleep with."

Heimdall raised his arm, watching the deep cuts slowly heal. He might have considered giving the boy what he needed. It would be safer for all concerned, but with the sight he'd seen, the vast gap between their ages was a greater deterrent, even, than his own preference for women. Still, he knew Thor. For the two of them to have a chance at happiness, Loki must not be allowed to run wild tonight; though Heimdall did, Thor would not understand. It must be stopped; there had to be a way, but he could not betray his loyalty to the throne. Of course, that loyalty was all a little more complicated, given recent events... "There are things," he said, evenly, "the All-father is not telling you."

Loki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, then took a deep breath, let his glamour fall, and stood straighter.  "More? There's _more_ that King Odin isn't telling me? What is it, is his wife my daughter?"

It was startling to see in the flesh, though always present in his mind's eye. He looked so much like her. "I cannot say more. My loyalty to the throne prevents my doing so. However," he added, carefully, "it also binds me to tell you this." _Use your sharp mind_ , he urged the boy in his thoughts. _Understand that there is more than one power on the throne._

"To tell me that there are things I don't know? I'm getting the hang of that one."

"This throne is also your birthright." Perhaps... if he planted a seed?

Loki shook his head.  "The throne _has_ an heir.  Bastards are not legitimate. My throne is in Jotunheim."

All Heimdall could do was incline his head. "As you say." This would not end well.

"I'll take my leave, then.  Thank you for being very appealing and distracting," Loki told the man, before storming out darkly, re-forming his glamour.

 

* * *

 

Loki considered the man thoughtfully.  He could… honestly, he could be Thor's older brother.  Tall, broad, and blond, stupidly handsome, but just a _little_ less of all four.  That same strong jaw. Those same blue eyes. Loki sauntered close, his glamour solidly in place.  "You look like someone I know."

The man had an easy laugh, and his eyes glittered with familiar humor. "Do I, now?"

"Yes, a very handsome man of my acquaintance."  The truth was the easiest lie.

"You're out to flatter me. I like that in a man."

"I wouldn't be out here trying to flatter you if you weren't attractive enough to be worth the effort," Loki told him, meaningfully.  He stole a goblet from the table, taking a tentative sip. Good, robust red wine, spicy and fruity.

It was clear, at this point, that the man was more than a little drunk. He tilted slightly to one side, and his smile was lop-sided. "Careful. I might just try to take you home with me." He leaned in. "Or maybe just around the corner."

Oh, this was just perfect. Loki didn't want to assume, given the way things had gone recently - maybe this was the bloody All-Father in disguise? - but if it was what it seemed, it would shortcut a lot of meaningless chatter.  He put his hand on the man's chest. "You've had a lot to drink. I should take you home and _take care of you_..."

"Well, who am I to refuse such a fine offer?" He wound an arm around Loki, leering.

The man reeked of booze, but he was nonetheless startlingly attractive - and eager.  Loki leaned into the man. "Show me where you live. And maybe a little more?"

"Gladly!" He started to veer in the general direction of a side corridor, a smaller and dimmer one than Loki had seen previously.

Loki moved with him. Anticipation made him hard; he put his hands on the man's back, his chest, his waist...

"I'll bet you're a good little lay." The man was talkative. "You're in good hands tonight."

Oh, one of _those_. The less that was there, the more the talk, as in so many walks of life.  Loki dialed his expectations down. Still, he would do. "Good hands?" he asked, coyly, taking one of those hands and pressing it to his crotch.

That earned him a long, booming laugh. Then, a squeeze. "You're a feisty one. Oh, you've lucked out tonight, kid. I've had both men and women from all walks of life, and never a complaint."

Well, yes, one tended not to _complain_  to the management about a substandard sexual encounter.  One took it for what it was worth and moved on. "I'm looking forward to it."

The man leaned in, presumably thinking his loud voice was low and subtle. "I once had the favor of the queen."

_Liar_  Loki scoffed inwardly.  "Liar," Loki teased, poking him playfully in the back, hoping that would hurry him along.

"Are you calling me a liar?" The man asked, agitated.

"Just teasing." Loki kissed him.

This peace offering was accepted quite slobberingly.   Loki took the wet, sloppy kiss, squeezing the man's buttocks.  If this was the price of a prick, he would pay it.

"You're not bad..." The man leered at Loki, swaying.

Damn the realms to oblivion, this man had better not pass out before he bedded Loki. He steadied the fellow with both hands.

"Did I ever tell you..." The man seemed to lose track of where Loki was.

Loki grabbed him around the waist. "Where your room was? No."

"Oh. That's just over... um..." He pointed.

A rather plain door, just like the others in this dark corridor.  Loki staggered towards it with the man half-in his arms.

"Strong. I like it. I used to be strong...er than anybody!"

"Lots of strong men around here..." Loki pushed open the door with his shoulder. "Show me how strong you are."

"I will! I will pound you so hard you'll be for... to... um..."

Loki managed to make it over to the bed, kicking the door closed. This work had _better_ be worth it.

"Did I tell you I once bedded the... the queen of Asgard?"

"You did." Loki got the man on the bed and clambered atop him. "How was it?"

"Best time she'd ever had, boy. She did a thing with her fingers..." he tried to demonstrate. "Seiðr? What a woman. Right until Odin's nose, and him none the wiser. "

"I was going to ask how it is you're still alive." At least the man wouldn't pass out as long as he was talking. Loki pulled off his own cloak and tunic, then busied himself with removing his trousers.

"It was 500 years ago." He frowned. "Give or take."

"I hear he was quite the warrior." 500 years ago.  Interesting. Loki kicked off his trousers, undoing the other man's.

"The boy?" He chuckled. "Yes, you might say so."

"Is he, now." Maybe this drunkard wasn't lying after all.  His prick, unloosed from his trousers, looked... familiar.

"No one believes me." He sounded almost upset.

"I believe you." Loki pulled the oil out of the pocket of his trousers, on the bed next to him.  It really made far, far too much sense. But the implications required a great deal of thought.

"You do?" His eyes burst open, and he grabbed Loki by the waist.

“I do.”  Loki started to slick the man up with oil.

"Hw... wh wait!" The man brushed Loki's hands away. "Why'd'you believe me? Did _she_ send you?"

How delightfully paranoid.  Still, he _should_ be. If Loki were in Frigga’s shoes, he wouldn’t stand for this man just to go spilling this information whenever he was in his cups. No matter that it would be taken for nonsense by most.  "No. You just look like him."

"I do?" He squinted, trying to get a clear look at Loki, and obviously failing.

"Yes." Loki pushed the man back, putting himself back into position.

"You've seen him?"

"Like everyone else, from a distance." Not a lie, but not the full truth - Loki’s second favorite sort of lie.  He finally got himself in place, atop the man, and started to push.

"Wh..." The man below him seemed surprised at this turn of events. Loki sighed with relief as he was filled. Finally. A nice solid prick, warm and girthy, just what he needed.

"You're... You're a wild one," the man wheezed.

Loki moaned, settling lower. "I just like... this," he sighed.

"Everyone likes me," the bore droned.

"Yes." And the idiot attached to the part _everyone likes_  is the price of admission, Loki noted. Honestly, it truly was almost worth it.  Loki started to ride the man, dipping deep for his own pleasure. The idiot started rambling and wheezing, twitching his hips out of rhythm with Loki., so Loki grabbed the man's hips, trying to steady and control them. He had a magnificent prick, with a nicely flared head that rubbed him inside deliciously.

Like someone else he knew.

"You're almost like... Like a woman..." the idiot mewled, but his hips were strong and surprisingly agile; and his hands, too, broad and wide-fingered. He grabbed Loki with them, groping up his torso. Loki gave up and let the man do his own rhythm, focusing instead on stroking himself with his oil-slick hand.  The frustration, deprivation, and physical pleasure were working their magic - orgasm was pooling warmly in his stomach.

Just like that, the man grunted and came, immediately going limp.   It was enough. Barely. Loki came, stroking himself through it.

The man had fallen asleep. Slumped off to one side, nearly falling off the narrow bed. Thank the gods. Loki could think clearly now, and didn't have to waste any mental effort on inane conversation.  He slid off of the man, wiped himself off on the man's cloak, and left his Aesir clothes in a rumpled pile in the corner. It took a moment and some focus to change back to his Jotun form (he would worry about _that_  later); he clothed himself in glamour, then invisibility, and snuck out of the door.

He brought himself back to visibility after turning two corners.  He stopped by his room briefly to gather actual clothing - it would be highly rude to appear before a witch clad only in glamour - and then walked back to the royal hall at a rapid pace.  A random Aesir could not simply walk up to Frigga's chambers and demand an audience, but a Jotun claiming critical state secrets could.

 

* * *

 

A guard knocked anxiously at the door. "The Jotun ambassador, Loki of..."

"She knows me," Loki interrupted, impatiently.

"Thank you, Gudrun. You may leave us." Frigga's voice carried well into the entranceway, from her position on the far side of the room.

Loki swept into the room, closing the door behind him. He turned to Frigga and gave an elaborate bow. "My lady."

"Ambassador. What can I do for you?" As though she couldn't feel his anger and frustration a mile away.

"I have a question for you." Loki wandered around the room with his hands behind his back, observing her decor - curiously elegant Dwarven figurines, ornamental yet functional daggers, a Jotunish tapestry depicting the Battle of Laufey and the Wolves - the source of the Great Throne. "And I could use a drink, but I'll skip right to the question if you don't have any."

Frigga had some centuries of practice schooling herself to calm, and so her hands did not even tremble in the slightest as she filled two crystal goblets from the carafe already open at her desk. It had been a trying few days.  "I suggest we both have one." She offered the other glass to Loki, meeting his eyes steadily.

"Excellent idea." He took a sip, sighing at the calming burn, and settled himself. "You are the most beautiful woman in Valhalla, shockingly intelligent, a master of seiðr, adept at swordplay. Any man would be honored and flattered by your attention. I understand the need for variety as much as anyone, but why choose _him_? An idiot, a braggart, and terrible in bed?"

Frigga did not even falter. "I really wish you had not done that." She took a sip of her drink.

"I am not allowed your son. Was I supposed to join a religious order?"

"I suppose I should blame myself for not taking action. But how was I to imagine you would come across him? There are millions of men in Valhalla."

"Yes! Millions! Millions better than _him_! Why waste yourself on _him_?" Good gods, he didn't deserve to lick her boots clean.

"He was different, then." She shrugged. "Not by much, I grant you."

Loki wasn't going to settle for that, but he would put it aside for now. "He's wandering around running his mouth about it when he's in his cups. You need to have him killed."

"This isn't Jotunheim. We don't kill our subjects." A low blow, and utterly unfair, but it had been a long few days. "How long did it take you to believe him? He is not a threat."

"Not long, but I have..." Loki shrugged. "Some inside knowledge." So to speak.  "But I'm just a Jotun savage, after all."

"I really wish you hadn't," she said again, shaking her head. "It makes things so infinitely more... complicated."

"Yes, they were so simple and straightforward before," Loki noted.  "But fundamentally, it changes nothing. It doesn't matter that Thor isn't actually my brother.  I have to pretend he is, to him and everyone else. Except that I have to pretend that he isn't when he is when he isn't, and keep my hands to myself."

Even in all this, this extraordinary young man could make her laugh. Best not to show it though. "There is a reason things are as they are. I'm sorry you were dragged into it, and I wished you could have been a comfort to my son for longer."

"I wish that much more than you do, I'm certain."

She touched his hand. "It is too much to ask, but I must: Do you trust me?"

Loki took her hand, sighing. "I want to. You lied to me..." Implicitly, at least.  And that was Loki’s job.

"Yes." She smiled. "Will you sit?"

Loki sat, draining his drink.

"For reasons we need not to into at this juncture, it became necessary to produce a child which, while outwardly the heir to the throne, was not. Let us simply say that my and the All-father's blood do not mix well."

Loki twisted the cup in his hands.  "Does this have anything to do with this woman?" It was a guess, but not an unreasonable one.  He conjured a glamour of the woman Odin had given an glimpse of - dark and potent and sensual, hair like deadly snakes.

Frigga looked down, not sure whether to smile or conceal it. "He let that slip, did he? Yes. She was too powerful. I could not help her."

"Is she dead?" If she were as powerful as Thor, it might have happened accidentally.

"Bound. Permanently."

"Interesting.  So she's the true heir." No binding was _completely_ permanent, after all. "Or," Loki added, thoughtfully, "she isn't.  Nobody in Asgard knows of her? Blood is useful, but perception is what _truly_ matters. The Asgardians are certain that Thor is the All-Father's son and heir.  So…” Loki shrugged, “he is." It was a strange thing to consider, but if anyone should know how easily perception could lead reality - it should be him, shouldn't it.

"An interesting perspective..." Could it be a clear and true one? And if so, could it _work_? Frigga’s mind opened, carefully, to other possibilities.

"You know your people better than I do.  But I see that they love their prince - a proper warrior, in Odin's tradition."

Frigga shook her head. "I love Thor, but I'm sorry to say he's been a bit of a disappointment. Until you woke his potential." She considered the young Jotun’s face. He was so _good_  at concealing his true feelings, even without the aid of glamour. Did he understand, fully, the part he had played? Had to keep playing, were this to work?

"He's made a lot of progress," Loki noted, playing with his empty glass.  How much more he could make before Loki couldn't stand the sexual tension anymore was another question.

"Not through _training_ , dear." She arched an eyebrow, trying not to smile too obviously. 

"That's all I'm giving him."  Now, at least. Just one lovely night before I found out he was my brother... only he's not... only we have to act like he is.

"I know." She gathered herself. Granted, this was not at all what she had in mind when she set things in motion centuries ago, but perhaps it might even be better. "I had hoped that Odin might bring home one of his _other_  children.  Take them as his own. It never happened. And so, I had Thor. You wondered why I chose as I did?"

"Yes, I do." Loki looked to at her.

"I needed someone who was..." she inclined her head, "not too bright. Whose strength lay in his body, not his mind. Someone entirely unskilled in seiðr."

"Well, you found it. His only good feature is his manhood. With he still doesn't use well."

"I was younger. And angry." She did wish the boy would stop reminding her that he'd bedded the idiot.

"But Thor takes after _you_."

"Just enough." She smiled. "Lately, I had hoped that perhaps, should we find a child of Odin's that was amenable, it may be a good match for him. I must say it hasn't quite turned out the way I expected, but perhaps, in you, our blood could come together in a better way."

Loki jumped to his feet. The glass fell from his hands and shattered on the floor. " _What_??"

"You," she said, simply, "and Thor. Do sit down, I'm well aware that my husband has other ideas."

"Don't mock me!" Loki fumed.

"I wouldn't dare."

"You're doing it right now," Loki said, heatedly.  "I'm to be the _wife_  to your son, to lend legitimacy to his throne?"

"Because a _wife_ , of course, is a demeaning position, to which any decent person would not aspire." 

Loki worked his mouth, then sat.  "You do the work, and Odin gets the glory."

"Thor," she said, pointedly, "is not his father." With a smile, she added, "either of them."

Loki nodded moodily.  "But my obligation is to Jotunheim, not Asgard."  No matter how much I want Thor.

"Where, in time, you will rise to the throne." She was careful not to phrase it like a question. 

"Not if I'm thought to be in the thrall of Asgard.  I'm already considered a weakling, not up to the task of ruling the Jotun.  There will be a coup." And Loki would end up several inches shorter.

"You have a plan I'm sure, to circumvent this." 

"Yes." Loki stood and began to pace. "My _plan_  was to take this ambassador position, my unwanted trip to Asgard, and return with _something_  - a concession in the trade war, an agreement on one of the disputed boundaries, _something_ to show I could stand up to Asgard. Three days in, and I've found out I'm a half-Aesir bastard in love with my Aesir half-brother, it's going _so_  well."

"... And if something like that could be arranged?" 

"Something mutually beneficial, you mean? It depends on what you'd want from me in return."

Frigga ran a finger, gently, around the rim of her empty glass. "Consider this one repatriation for the burden my husband placed on you." And the pain he caused my son. 

"And he will freely give it?"  Treaties could be undone, if agreed to in bad faith.

"That would depend, I think, on the _it_." 

Loki considered this, putting out the largest of his asks. "Rights to the Troms-land."

"Perhaps," she said, bringing up a primstav, "you had better make a list." Obviously, what she could arrange was limited, but in return for Loki's good will, she would try. 

"If I can trouble you for another drink, I will."

 

* * *

 

 

Several drinks later, and negotiation unspoken between them, glances and little shakes or nods of the head, Loki looked at the list he had produced with some sense of accomplishment.  But there was one question lingering. “And… when will I be able to be with Thor again?"

Now there was a question. Frigga considered her answer carefully. "My husband has tasked me with making certain this does not happen." 

"Yes, I know,” Loki replied, impatiently.

"Which means," she added, patiently, "that he relies on my reports to know what is and is not going on." She looked at Loki, trying to convey her meaning.

"So - you’ll keep the cat out of the room and we’ll keep it quiet.”  Loki rubbed at his healing scratches.

"One cat is much like any other. Odin, to my knowledge, has never known the difference."

Loki nodded thoughtfully.  Thor. He could be with Thor.  “I might… have to go.”

"Go. I will see about your requests. I will send for you." 

Loki stood and bowed. "Thank you, milady." He walked out the door with long, ground-eating strides, staying just on the non-running side of running.

Once out of sight of the Queen’s guards, Loki gave up all pretense.  He ran the rest of the way to Thor's room and pounded on the door. "Thor?" He paused. Knocked again.  Nothing.

He turned and waved down a passing guard, feeling slight panic. "Where is the prince?"

The guard leaned away from him warily. "He's…” The man was clearly considering, in some detail, his various loyalties, and how to appropriately balance each of them. “I should escort you..."

“Then do so.  I have an urgent manner to discuss with him.”  Loki followed the guard, chafing at both his suspicions and his pace.

 

* * *

 

This part of the courtyard had an overarching canopy, with tables set out here and there. On one, a particularly ornate set of chess had been set out, the pieces scattered haphazardly around the board. A holo text floated in the air above it, showing diagrams. Thor was hunched over the table, looking from the text to the set and back again. He was worrying at a piece with his fingernails - the king, it looked like. 

Loki slid into the seat across from him, his eagerness tempered by the feeling in the middle of his back of a guard staring at him. "The king is the piece most constrained in is movement." He picked up the opposing queen; in this set, she looked a great deal like Frigga. "The queen is ultimately the most powerful."

Thor looked up at him and broke into a smile, eyes glittering. Loki was  _amazing_ ; his eyes, his hair, the angles of his pale face and the way the shadows fell across it; it was like being visited by the full moon in the form of a man. But his smile faded quickly. "I'm not getting it. It's too much to have to think about at the same time."

"You don't have to learn it all at the start. We can start with a limited board, just the pawns, get your familiar with the flow, start adding pieces..." Loki's finger stroked the Queen, avariciously. He stole glances up at Thor. So beautiful, and he would be _allowed_  to touch the man, now. Gods, Frigga's touch had certainly purified his father's bloodline.

"I want to try the real thing." If Loki believed he could learn, he wanted to try his hardest. 

"We'll work our way up to it." Loki sighed and licked his lips. "I... um... speaking of trying things. I... found out that monastic life is not for me."

Thor looked up again. "Oh?" Loki looked a little flushed, if that was the right word. Off color, certainly. Was he ill?

"I want you _more_  than anything they could give me." The words tumbled out of Loki’s mouth with utter sincerity.

"Y... you..." Thor sat up straight so fast the table shook, knocking several pieces over. He scrambled to pick them up. 

Loki grabbed a few pawns and a castle before they fell to the ground. "I mean it.  I’ll find another way to win the respect of my people." A proper cover story, as easily cast aside as a moth-eaten cloak.

"Me? Like we did before?" He had to be sure. 

Loki nodded vigorously. "What we did before." He cast an evil glance back at the looming guard.

"Can we go now?" Thor grabbed the table with both hands, to steady himself. 

"Yes!" Loki almost squeaked, jumping to his feet.

"Come." Thor almost offered Loki his hand, but the guard in the distance was looking at them oddly. 

"Yes... this, er, way..." There was only so much a loincloth could do, and Loki was demanding too much of his at the moment.

What was wrong with his... oh. Thor walked a little faster. 

Loki tried to put a careful hand on the side of the intricately plaited cloth without it being too obvious. He walked with great care.

He was _that_  excited just to see Thor? Thor couldn't help staring. 

Thank the gods. Thor's door. Loki headed to it, but the guard hurried in front. "Um, I think I have to... ask..." he started to say, clearly out of his depth on _this_ one.

"Leave us," Thor told the guard, as though he were commanding him in the field. He didn't think he had a voice of royal command; this was the closest he could get. "He means me no harm."

Loki exhaled with relief as the guard reluctantly stepped aside. He hurried into Thor's room.

Closing the door behind him, and locking it for good measure, Thor tried to breathe. 

Loki undid the two key folds that released his loincloth entirely. He threw it aside; the braided-in metal and gems made a cold, quiet noise as he tossed it in a corner. He slid off his sandals and lunged at Thor, kissing the man.

Falling back against the door, Thor wondered if the guard heard the thud as he hit the solid wood. Hopefully not. He had an armful of Loki, and he didn't quite know what to do with it. He opened his mouth on instinct. 

Yes! Loki put his tongue in Thor's delicious mouth, tugging at the man's excessive clothing.

It was all very exciting, but a little frightening. Thor tried to fend Loki's hands off. "Wait," he tried to say, but there was something in his mouth. 

Pushing him away? Loki stepped back, confused. "What?"

"I'm not very good at this," Thor huffed. He was aroused and confused and just a little scared. "Tell me what to do."

Loki was panting slightly, erect and wanting. "Take your clothes off." Gods, the man wore so _much_.

OK, that was easy. Thor tore them off and stepped a little closer. 

Hel, this wasn't Loki's room. "Do you have oil?" They would need it, eventually. Well, maybe not _need_ , but it would be nice...

"Oil? Yeah.." Somewhere, probably. 

"Good. Put it next to the bed." Bed, yes. Loki hopped into it, bouncing slightly. A nice firm bed.  It would do nicely.

There was a small flask of oil in his bath rooms. Thor brought it out and put it on the table, obediently. "And then?" 

"Come here." Loki held out his arms.

That was better. Easier. Thor let himself be drawn in, lying down and nearly folding himself around Loki. 

Yes. Thor's body was warm and delicious next to him. Loki kissed his strong, bearded jawline, tickling his lips with the stubble.

"You're amazing."

"I'm glad you think so." Loki rubbed his hands over Thor's warm, smooth chest, nipping at his neck.

Running his hand down Loki's side, Thor hesitated. "Can I?" He couldn't see it all that well from this angle, but he wanted to touch it. 

"Can you what?" What was all of this _asking_?

"Uh... this." Groping between them, he found Loki's erection. 

Loki drew in a sharp breath at the feel of that big, overly warm hand on him. "Yes, whatever you want."

"Let me see it." He pushed on Loki's chest. 

Loki fell back on the bed, spreading his legs to show Thor. It was just a penis, blue and cold and not as thick as Thor's.

"Feels so cold." Thor ran a finger up it.

"I'm Jotun." Loki shivered at the heat of the touch

"I like it. It's different." Thor took it his hand.

Loki exhaled. "Not as big as yours." It almost disappeared in Thor’s hand...

"Hm?" Thor wasn't paying attention; this was too fascinating. He stroked it, carefully. So cold.

Loki put his hand on Thor's shoulder, kissing the man. He thrust his tongue in time with the stroking.

That was unutterably good. Thor moaned, stroking harder, still keeping time. 

Loki put his hand on Thor's. "Not just yet," he said into the man's mouth. He wanted to come with Thor inside of him.

"But I liked that..."

"We'll do it more. I just want you in me, first."

"OK." That was what the oil was for. He reached for it. 

Thor was new to this, Loki reminded himself. "Put it on your fingers first." Ordering Thor around was rather fun, really, and it made all of this go so smoothly.   
  


"Like last time. I know." He could be good. He would make Loki happy, so he would stay.    
  


Loki smiled and spread his legs. "Go, then."

Just press them in, right? Thor tried.

Three at once! Loki cried out in surprise and pain as all three, slick with oil, slipped in.

"Sorry!" Thor's eyes widened, not sure if he should pull them out or keep going. 

"It's okay," Loki huffed. "Just, next time, one at a time."

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be careful."  He very gently pulled his fingers out again, but Loki grabbed his wrist.

"No, keep them in. It's fine now. And, uh, I like a little pain..."

Thor didn't know what to do with that, so he just nodded. How would he know? That was why he asked. Not knowing what else to do, he kissed the inside of Loki’s cold, blue thigh.

Loki pulled Thor's fingers back all of the way in. "Move them. Spread."

"All right." He tried. His muscles twitched with concentration.

"Good," Loki sighed, pleased. "Very good."

Seeing that beautiful body twitch and move with him was amazing. Thor thrust with greater enthusiasm, leaning down. 

"I'm ready, now." He had just been open the night before, after all. "Put some oil on your..." Loki looked at it, meaningfully.

Already? Thor shouldn't question it - what did he know? He reached for the oil again, grunting a little as he applied it.

"That's good. You can never have too much..."

But he'd said three fingers- oh! Right. Thor added a little more oil.

"Good. Now, in me."

Thor tried to position himself. He was a little too excited now, but he wanted to be good, for Loki. Loki grabbed Thor's hips to put him in place, then took his shaft in hand to guide him in, and yes, that was better, knowing what was right; what was good. He wasn't getting any of this right, Thor thought, before he stopped thinking much of anything. "Gods..." he felt himself slip inside. 

Loki moaned with pleasure. Thor's manhood was the perfect everything - size, shape, firmness. Not to mention the person it was attached to.

"Let me know what you want." Not like he had any idea. 

"Deeper. And kiss me."

He could do that. Thor could definitely do that. As he leaned down, he found he was going deeper anyway, so he went with that, meeting Loki's mouth. 

Loki sighed, kissing back. Thor was so eager to please - it was _perfect._  "Now move," he mumbled into Thor's mouth, grabbing his hips again to guide him.

It felt so good, those cold, lean fingers holding him, wanting him... Thor shuddered, thrusting. 

"Yes, so good," Loki sighed, "Faster." He bit at Thor's lips.

No one had to tell him that; Thor was already speeding up, happy for the permission to do so. He whimpered as he felt teeth on his skin, pushing his tongue in deeper as he thrust. The bed was shaking. 

Hard, powerful pummeling. Yes. "Gods, yes, Thor!" Loki squeezed him hard, inside.

Yelping, Thor shuddered, and a swelling, warm pleasure surged up through him - he knew what that meant. _No_ , he thought, but there was no holding it back. He flushed, whimpering with guilt and pleasure. 

Oh, shit. Loki grabbed his prick and tossed, hard, coming before Thor could soften up too much.

"Sorry... sorry..." 

Loki finished off his own orgasm, moaning and squeezing Thor inside of himself.

"You... can still change your mind about that religious order." 

"I'm out. This is too good." Thor would improve at this, too.

Thor kissed him again, hoping that was OK. Loki’s hair was splayed all over, silky and somehow cold, too. Like the rest of him. Thor ran his fingers through it. _Ice water_ , he thought again, not minding the numbness coming over his skin. 

Too warm.  And there were other options - why not take them?  Loki changed to his Aesir form. "This is so much more comfortable, around here."

Thor nearly jumped. He was still inside him; the change in temperature was oddly jarring. But not uncomfortable. 

"Sorry, should have warned you," Loki noted, lazily. The post-coital joy was relaxed and uncomplicated, thank the glaciers.

"It's all right. I like this too." 

"Good." Loki pulled him close. "So, I'll teach you seiðr, and we'll have sex. It will be perfect.”

"Yes." A warm Loki was different. A good different, but some taking used to. 

Loki kissed him. "I'm so glad I changed my mind." So glad Frigga did.

"Do you feel different, like this?" Thor put a hand on his cheek. Just as warm as any man, not that he’d ever touched another man’s cheek.

"I'm not so scorchingly hot all the time," Loki sighed. "I mean, here."

"You don't have those scars."

"No." Loki looked at his arm. "I haven't really tried to do magic in this form..." Maybe it would be less potent?

"Can you try?" It was so lovely just to look at him. Any excuse to see his hands, lips and fingers move.

Loki tried to call up an illusion. It slid about in a lazy chaos of color, until he pointed his fingers and forced it into the guise of a cat. "It's harder to focus," he noted, surprised.

Thor was still looking around in awe. The colors seemed to linger on the walls, on the inside of his eyelids.  "That was incredible!"

"What? It was just a glamour."

"But you decided what to make it look like,” Thor insisted. “You made it move like that." 

"Yes, it's what I do." Loki focused a little more than usual, giving himself the appearance of a beautiful Aesir girl, blond and busty, with a round face and thick red lips.

"Uh..." Thor flushed. He'd never found a girl that attractive before. He tried to look at her and not look at her at the same time. 

"It's not real." Loki let the illusion dissolve. "But it can be useful."

"You look good that way too."

"You like girls?" Loki asked, curiously.

Thor shrugged. What was there to say? "I've bedded one or two."

"Do you prefer them?"

"I prefer you." No question. No one else came dose, man or woman. 

"Because I can be a woman, if you want." One of those things he had learned from Laufey, not from his usual instructor. Surely it would work for his Aesir form?

"I..." His body responded, if nothing else, but his body responded to anything new Loki did. "Can we try?" 

Loki nodded. "It's not instant, it takes some work. I wanted to be sure you wanted it first." He slid out of bed, kneeling on the floor, and closed his eyes. Focusing.

Thor leaned over the side, staring. He knew women a little better. Maybe he wouldn't be so terrible at this. 

This was even more of a change than from Jotun to Aesir. His genitals _flexed_  and _shifted_ , his skin moving, changing, until... with a gasp, it was done.

" _I have a little more experience with women_ ," Thor said. It came out like one word. 

"More than none, then?" Loki took a deep breath, settling into her skin. Yes, it was different, being an Aesir woman rather than Jotun - the pleasure in the heat, the breasts more protruding, and there would surely be other differences to explore. She stood, stretching, feeling this body.

"Just a little." He - she - was just as breathtaking as in any form, literally. Thor had to remind himself he needed air. "Come here."

Thor's demeanor was different with a woman, Loki noted. More confident, more commanding. Interesting. Loki slid into bed next to him.

"How do you feel?"

"Female." What kind of a question was that? Loki kissed Thor to see if it felt any different.

Kissing was the same, at least, and got Thor’s body interested. And he knew what to do with breasts; one area in which he'd had no complaints. Thor put his hand on one, gently, grazing a nipple. 

Loki gasped and shivered. Add one to the "differences" ledger - very sensitive nipples!  Every nerve ending thrilled at Thor’s touch.

"You might like this." Thor leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth, working the other with his hand. 

Loki cried out. Was there something wrong with this body, or was this deluge of wetness from her genitals normal? 

"Good?" Sounded that way, but everything was so different, with Loki. 

"That's incredible," Loki gasped.

"Can I..." he moved his hand down to her crotch. 

"Yes, whatever." No Jotun man had made her feel _good_. She had thought the form might be flawed, and had spent little time in it...

He'd only done this once or twice, but the women who'd taken him home at the time had been _very_  particular about it. Curious, Thor pressed his fingers in just between Loki's legs, feeling for that tight little nub. 

Loki's mouth and legs fell open simultaneously. It was like when  _ she  _ was  _ he  _ and was rubbed inside in just that perfect way - except different. But still. "Oh..." she whimpered.

It was still Loki. Unmistakably, and that was all Thor cared about. Eager that this was something he actually knew how to do, he tried to work his fingers carefully. His hands were big, though, and this Loki had narrow hips and a small sex; it was hard to be as delicate as he knew he should be. 

"Oh," Loki said again, stupidly. Something was happening, something was building, and she didn't know what. She grabbed at Thor.

"It's all right..." He tried to use a lighter touch, not sure what would be better. 

Instant frustration, that intense sensation lessening. "No, the other way! Don't stop!!"

Well, how would he know! Thor tried to go back to what he'd been doing, but rougher, more direct.

"Yes,  _ that _ , don't stop," Loki squeaked.

It was easier when he got a good rhythm going; like sparring. Thor leaned down and sucked at a nipple again; it was such a simple thing, and women often liked it. From his limited experience. 

"Yes, yes, don't stop!!" Loki repeated.  She didn't know what was building, only that it was critically important not to _stop._

He was doing good; he was good. Thor sighed happily. He could do this as long as Loki wanted it. He could do it forever. 

"Oh, god, Thor, oh!" she screamed, grabbing Thor tightly, spasms of pleasure shuddering through her whole body.

Smiling, Thor kept going. _He_  was doing this. No one had praised him quite that enthusiastically before. 

How long did this last? It had never happened to Loki before! She clung to Thor bruisingly tightly, riding it out. Thor held her until it subsided, grinning like an idiot.  "Oh gods," she moaned, holding him firmly. "That was incredible. I didn't know this body could do that."

"I think you can do that again, almost right away." 

"That's impossible."

A little nervously, Thor very carefully moved his fingers back where they had been, pressing very gently.

Loki squeaked and grabbed at Thor again. So sensitive! "Can you do that while you're in me?"

"I... I think so."

"Do that!" She was still absurdly wet; he would surely slip in easily. Was this how it was _supposed_ to happen, with men and women?

"I'm, uh, not..." It was so much harder, with girls. Or not, to be exact. 

"Oh." Loki sat up. "You don't like women as much?"

"Maybe if you... with your mouth?" He blushed furiously. They had done that, when he couldn’t… before. It had been one of the nicer things Thor could actually remember about his earlier fumbles. 

"Oh." She could do that. She had never been asked to so _nicely_. She wet her lips, bent down, and swallowed it.

Thor yelled, throwing a hand over his mouth in case the guard heard. That was so warm and wet and exciting...

This was easy, and enjoyable, and, hopefully, productive. Loki bobbed her head, sliding her lips up and down, rubbing the shaft with her tongue.

OK, well, that was _too_  exciting. Thor tried to pull away. "Ready," he panted. More than ready.

Good! Loki fell back and opened her legs.

The face was the same, near as could be.  The eyes, too; as clearly blue as the skin in his other form. Thor focused on that, and the wet, enticing feeling when he slipped right in. 

Loki grunted. It was so _easy_  for him to slip inside, and fill her so perfectly! And in this form - yes another difference. She had more control over the muscles of her vagina. She squeezed Thor experimentally.

"Keep doing that." It kept him hard, kept his mind on Loki. Oh, yes... He pressed his fingers between her legs again. 

"Okay." She practiced this new ability, squeezing gently, then firmly, then gently again.  It changed the nature of  _ her  _ pleasure, as well.

Better. Thor wet his fingers from where they were joined, and used it to rub her carefully, as he thrust. 

"Mmm, that is _nice_ ," Loki sighed.

"Is that good?" 

Hadn’t she just said that?  "Yes. Keep doing that!"

Thor just nodded. He concentrated, wanting to get it exactly right. 

Loki moaned with surprise at the warmth pooling in her stomach. "You're right, I think I could do this again!" The delightful _fullness_ , and the pleasurable shivers from Thor's hand...

She sounded so pleased! Thor grinned, thrusting with a little more enthusiasm. 

"Yes, good..." she moaned. What other skills was Thor hiding?  She would have to drag them out of him.

Maybe the breast, again? He should do the breast, again. It was a little extra effort, with the added movement, but Thor managed. 

"Oh!" Three amazing foci of stimulation. Loki grasped at Thor.

It took all of Thor's concentration to keep going. He felt his skin prickling. It was probably nothing. 

Loki squeezed Thor's manhood with her vagina again. It felt _delicious_.

He was starting to feel like he might come. Was that good? Would Loki like it? Something tickled his nose, and he looked up - little bursts of blue light were dancing across his skin.

"Oh!" Electric thrill though Thor's body, into her nethers, and another orgasm, hot and shuddering.

Loki was squeezing him so hard, and the smell and feel of him... her... Thor gasped, following her in orgasm. 

"Oh Thor," Loki yelled, grasping at everything he could.

"Yes..." The flames subsided, leaving him numb.

"By the glaciers..." Loki whimpered, shaking.  Gods, the way he made her feel. She _had_  to have Thor. Nothing else would do.

Thor looked up, a little helpless. "Was that all right?" 

Loki grabbed him. "I have to have you," she insisted.

"I'm here..." 

"For my own," Loki clarified. "Forever." Nobody else’s.

"You have me." No question. Always.

"Let's get married." Loki sat up, pushing Thor out of her. "It will make Laufey so upset..." she paused. "Or maybe not."

"What do you mean?

She shrugged. "He might be amenable to an alliance."  It would raise the status of Jotunheim. Especially if an heir were a Jotun child of the flesh

"Father would never agree. Mother made it quite clear that I could never marry a..." He looked at Loki, considering. Well. 

"A beast?" Loki frowned.

"A man." 

"Well... this is... a loophole, of sorts." Loki had never considered it, but she was no less woman than any born to the role.

Thor moved closer; like Loki was drawing him in. He settled close to her thin, pale body and buried his head in the crook of her neck. "I want you. No matter what your body is like. I mean that." 

Loki nodded thoughtfully. "I grew up male, mostly. I think I'm more comfortable that way." Not that female didn't have its own advantages.

"Then be what you want to be. Switch, when you want. I just want you." Come to that, screw Odin and his half-assed court. Mother be damned. He would have Loki. All of this brilliant whole; the best of all worlds. 

"I might have to marry you as a female. For appearances." Loki was thinking it through very carefully. "Your subjects have to accept me." What would be more terrifying - a red-eyed Jotun queen, or the idea that evil might be living among them in the guise of their own?

"Could you do both?" Thor was not a great thinker, as many had taken pains to remind him, but wasn't there an obvious solution? 

"Both?" Loki asked, turning to him.

"There is a Jotun ambassador. Everyone has seen him, and he is enjoying some favor of the queen. It would be natural for him to be seen around the court, perhaps keep his own rooms there. But might there also be an Aesir woman, dark and pale and beautiful, who has won the favor of the prince? And could they not both sometimes be seen in the prince's private chambers, and in his company, before and after two of them are married?"

"Living a lie." Loki nodded apprciatively. It was sort of her _thing_. "Except that the Jotun ambassador is also the Jotun prince, and - providing he avoids an assassin or coup - will be the Jotunish King one day."

"It would all be you, but... You're right; I'm no good at these things." 

"It might work for a short time, but I want you _forever_. Even after I'm King."

"Then I will have all of you. You do the thinking for us both. I will do the fighting, if needs be." 

"It would be helpful to have your mother's help," Loki said, reluctantly. "To help secure your father's. I will never have Laufey's approval, but I could have his assent."

"To rule with you..." The idea, the possibility made real was beginning to dawn on Thor. 

"Yes. Asgard and Jotunheim, cooperation instead of infighting. We would build a mighty empire!"

"United." Thor kissed him.

Loki kissed him back urgently. “I’m not joking.  Let’s go talk to Frigga. _United_."

"N... now?"

Loki took Thor’s hands.  “Now. If not now, when? Waiting is just more time for us to talk ourselves out of it.  We both want it.”

"Yes." More than anything. 

"Then let’s clean up and go.” Loki slid out of the bed.  “We should present ourselves at our best.” Thor as a golden god, powerful master of his domain.

"I'll run a bath." 

“Bath?” Loki frowned.  “Won’t you freeze?” Aesir were so delicate about the cold!

Leaps of logic were new, too. Thor was surprised when the answer to Loki’s confusing question came to him quite easily. "We heat the water?"

“Ah.”  Interesting.  “Go ahead, then, I have to decide on a form.”

"If..." Thor tried to say it casually, "if you use an Aesir form, you could join me?"

“Hm.” Loki liked the idea.  “I’ll join you as I am now, then.”

 

* * *

 

This bathing-together was an odd experience.  The bathing alone was quite different – warm water that would have sautéed a Jotun, instead warming her body pleasingly, including going inside of her vagina (she definitely wasn’t used to that).  And to have so much attention from Thor – touching her, kissing her, rubbing soap on her. She had to admit, the Aesir looked delectable, naked and wet and soapy…

There was a booming knock at the door. 

"Tell them to go away.” Loki kissed Thor behind the ear.

"The guard will, don't worry." Breasts were a growing fascination, when attached to Loki, he'd found. 

"Good.” She leaned back, giving Thor access to her mammaries.  She didn’t quite understand the fascination, but she wasn’t about to argue.

So slick and soft, yet firm... Thor sucked at a nipple, working a hand underneath them and between Loki's legs. 

The knock sounded again.

"Hel, go away," Loki moaned.

There was a muttered sound of voices. The guard telling whoever it was off, Thor assumed. He was hard again now; the water and the sounds Loki made hurrying that process on. "Can I?" He pressed the head of his cock against her nether lips, very lightly. 

"Yes." Just one more before they had to be Official and presentable to Frigga. She moved closer, letting her lips push open against his manhood.

It was so sweet and comfortable and _warm_  and welcoming, and Thor couldn't wait to be swallowed up into- 

The door burst open. "Thor, my boy!"

Thor squeaked, thrusting up into Loki in surprise.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki cried out in shock and fear, scrabbling for weapons that weren't there.  Odin had stopped her breathing at the mere suggestion of her consorting with Thor!

"I've come down from-" the booming voice halted.

Thor gripped the sides of the bath, staring up at his father. All he could think of was his penis, deep inside Loki, and wonder just how much the water concealed.

Loki was gripping the sides of the bath and Thor's manhood equally tightly in reaction. Seiðr. She needed spells. And without her scars, she needed focus... invisibility... wind... she tried to _focus_.

"I see you've got company."

"Uh..."

"I've raised you better than that, boy; give her something to cover herself up!"

Loki froze. Did Odin not... Oh... A brief reprieve?

Not daring to breathe, Thor reached for a towel, and very slowly handed it to Loki.

Loki grasped the towel and slid off of Thor with a whimper, sliding out of the tub and wrapping the towel around herself. She did not, through the process, take her wide and slightly wild eyes off of Odin.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to this young lady?" Odin asked.

"I..." Thor stuttered.

"Or is it just a fleeting acquaintance?" His eye glittered.

"You're his father?" Loki managed, trying to play the role of a naive girl.

"Didn't know you'd bedded the son of Odin? I'm impressed; he won you over with his charms then, did he?"

"Father..."

"Yes... he's charming..." Loki swallowed.

"Run along now, my dear. I have important business to discuss with my son." Really, she was quite pretty. And not old enough to be his mother; a vast improvement.

Loki looked at Thor, then back at Odin. "We were just discussing business ourselves..."

Thor's eyes widened. He tried his best to signal _NO_ , but it was hard while avoiding his father's suspicious eye at the same time.

"Business?" Odin asked, turning the full force of his eye on Loki.

Loki sighed at the look on Thor's face.  "Nothing. I'll go." Her only clothes were a Jotunish loincloth in the corner, she realized.

"No, I'm curious." There was something in the girl's bearing, Odin thought. "Do tell, what _business_  were you discussing?"

"I was just making an infantile joke," she said, lamely.

"Don't mind her, father." Thor’s eyes rushed from one to the other, his hands clenching the side of the bath.

"You're trying to hide something from me." He took a step closer to the bath, keeping the girl in the corner of his eye.

Panic was brewing. "No, you just interrupted us mid-coitus, and I was annoyed.  My apologies, sir." She bowed.

Odin threw his head back and laughed. "I like this one!" There was more to his son than he’d realized. Well, some were late bloomers.

"I will take my leave."

"I must say," Odin said, ignoring her now that she'd been firmly put in her place, "I'm impressed."

"Father," Thor said again, trying not to sound pleading.

"I'm not just talking about the girl. I keep hearing wonderful things about how you handled yourself at the function. I must admit, I was a little concerned to leave things in your hands, but you put my worries to shame."

Loki faded back, trying to look like the wall hangings.

"I take it you've been speaking to Mother."

"Indeed I have. She's singing your praises. Apparently, you're a shining example of Aesir manhood these days." Though, he had to admit, he’d not assumed it quite so literally.

Loki looked over at the manhood in question. Not literally shining, but quite impressive.

Thor tried to casually arrange his hands over his crotch. The water was getting cold, and he vaguely remembered Loki’s words. If Odin hadn’t been here, they would have laughed about that.

"At this rate, we might even find you a wife, one of these days!”

Loki was used to avarice, but not the sick, furious stab of _want_. How dare anyone else touch Thor. Her fingers curled into fists.

"Yes..." Thor tried not to let his eyes stray to where he knew Loki was blending into the shadows. Blue eyes, blinking in the dark.

"First things first, however. I've spoken to general Vilje - there are problems in the East again. He'd very much like your council in the matter."

"Me?" Thor was no strategist.

More brutal retaliation for childish forays? Loki literally bit her tongue.

"Well, given your excellent performance the other night, I should think you're more than up to it. Wouldn't you say?"

"Um. I should get dressed..."

It was far past time, Loki decided, for them to be married. To work _together_ on these issues.

"Of course, of course! You do that - I will have some food sent round for you to replenish your strength." He winked, which was doubly disconcerting, with Odin. "Then meet me in the War Room."

Loki shivered. She wasn't used to being perved at by _Aesir_.

Thor opened his mouth to comment, but Odin was already on his way out. Thor fell back into the bath, exhaling.

"You can't marry anyone else," Loki insisted, once the door closed.

"What?" Thor was still getting his bearings.

"Your father said you'd get a wife soon. It can't be anyone but me."

"I don't think he meant right this minute." Thor clambered out of the bath, awkwardly.

"I don't care what he meant.  You can't marry anyone else." She picked up her loincloth from the corner.

"You might want to, um, turn your breasts off?"

"I'll do it later," she fumed, casting a glamour of her male Jotun form.  She didn’t have the focus for it right now. "We're going to go talk to your mother, though.  When you're done with your..." she only paused for a moment, "father. I'll be in my room when you're done."

Thor caught himself staring again. Those horns, the bright red eyes…

That almost-worshipful look in Thor's eyes was enough to settle Loki.  "Just... come by when you're done?"

"Can I touch you like that? Later?"

Loki nodded.  "After we speak with Frigga, we'll... we'll have the evening to ourselves."

Nearly slipping on the wet floor, Thor nodded vigorously. Loki kissed him on the lips, then walked out of the door.

 

* * *

 

Without Loki, the room was dull. Too cold, absurdly; too faded at the edges. Thor sat on the edge of the bath and picked at his nails. The sooner he got to the War Room and had his conversation with his father, the sooner they could move on.

He didn’t want to. _Problems in the East_. Thor knew what that was. Jotun. Settlers, probably, not bothering anyone, whose only fault was making themselves known. What ‘council’, exactly, could the general want from Thor? Something was not right, and he did not have the wits to untangle it. Loki did.

Sighing, Thor rose to find himself a towel. He tried to get excited about the promise of food, but for the first time in very, very long, the prospect held no interest.

 

* * *

 

Loki returned to her room, dropping the glamour.  She sat on the bed, taking a deep breath, needing to relax for just a moment...

She gasped as her mind was _touched_.  Communication, commanding red eyes, shoving into her brain like Laufey had walked into her room without knocking.  As was his right.

_My son.  You have been gone for many days with no communication back to me.  You must return soon._  His voice was gently chastising.

_I apologize, parent-of-the-flesh.  I have been busy. I have agreements in process to return some of the disputed land, and facilitate the fur trade..._  She had made some progress!

_Aesir cannot be trusted.  Waste no time with agreements they will not honor._

_Yes, my King, I am aware,_  she replied, contritely.   _I beg of you, one more week?_

_Three days, my son.  You must return by then._  He swept out of her mind with an air of finality.

Loki exhaled, her eyes flying open.  Three days.

 

* * *

 

The War Room. Thor had been here before, of course, during countless boring meetings where he’d simply nodded when Odin’s eye had nudged him to do so, dozing off in the intervals between and trying not to think about the next battle. Did mother really think he had _enjoyed_ fighting?

Perhaps he had. When the only thing you are good at is something horrific, it’s easy to make yourself forget that it is.

Always one to play a room like a harp, Odin greeted him with open arms and a wide open disposition. “Thor!” He turned to grin at Vilje, the general by his side. “My son has graced us with his presence.”

“Just so, Majesty.”

Like the meetings, the general had been a vague presence somewhere at the back of Thor’s mind. Tall and fair, always in full regalia even if he were just crossing the courtyard to get an apple from the vendor, he now looked to Thor more like a nailed-together collection of gilded blankets, with a helmet stuck on top. Thor nodded at them both, the blanket construct and his father, surprising himself by having to hide a grin.

“I thought it was well overdue that I include you in our long term strategic planning. In time, you know, you will lead this army.”

Thor nodded again, letting the conversation flow over and around him. Vague talk of ‘prevention’ and ‘autonomy’ and ‘a more direct approach’ - all words. In the end, it was all about slaughter, but It would not do to act too out of his usual character. Besides, if he said nothing, perhaps it might go faster. _In time_ , he thought, I will be far away from this place. _In no time at all._

“You agree, then?” Odin had finally paused, or perhaps it was the general; they were both silent now, looking to Thor.

“Yes.” The easiest way out.

“I’m very glad to hear it. What, in particular, convinced you of the value of the general’s plans?”

The pile of blankets turned to him, expectantly. “I defer,” Thor said, eyes not quite meeting either of them, “to the general’s wisdom and experience.” And, because he knew some things far better than others, “And to yours, All-father.”

Odin smiled. " _Your_ father,” he grinned. “More than anything, my boy.”

 

* * *

 

Thor knocked impatiently. All he could think about was to get this meeting with Frigga over with, so they could be alone again. He had run all the way from the War Room, across the courtyard and through the winding corridors, knocking at least one decorative trophy off its pedestal. There were a lot of trophies, in Valhalla. He had not stopped to count them.

"Come in," Loki said, pacing back and forth.

"Sorry," Thor burst through the door, still flushed from the run and anticipation, not sure why he was apologizing.

"Ready?" Loki asked, tightly.

"Are you all right?" He - no, definitely she, Thor noted, looked incredible as usual. Jotun now, horns tall and sweeping, face like a diamond; all angles and reflected blues. Her voice like a glacier; kindly, but clipped; cut off.

"King Laufey wants me to return in three days. Our time is short." She picked at her fingers anxiously.  Very short.

"You have to go back?"

She nodded. "And I want things to be arranged before I do."

"What things?"

"Our wedding!" she replied, tersely.  Hadn’t she been clear?

"You think we could get married that quickly?"

Is that what Thor thought?  That she was rushing to schedule a royal wedding in three days?  Or did he think such a weight of pomposity could even occur in that short a time?  "No, but we need to be pledged to each other. We need arrangements. Something solid in place."

Her words were as majestic as her voice, as her body, as her entire being. Thor let himself be swept up. "You really think we can do it?"

She stepped close to him. "We _have_ to. What sort of life will I have if I don't have you?"

"Well, what sort of life do you think _I'd_ have?" Didn't she care?

"Do you want me, then? In your life?" She stepped close, putting her hand on his chest.

"I don't know how to live without you. I don't think I did live, before you came."

"Then we _have_ to do this," she reiterated.  His words were all very fine, but it was actions that mattered.

There was only one thing on his mind right now. Thor pulled her close and kissed her, deeply. Ice-blue teeth, breath like a cold winter morning. His for the taking. And there to command him.

Gods, why did the man have to be so appealing, so tempting, deflecting her from her clearly-thought-out course of action?  Loki kissed him deeply, pressing her body to his.

"I couldn't eat, today,” Thor muttered, “I always eat." One pleasure he could always enjoy.

Loki paused. Was... was that important for Aesir? "Do you need to eat?"

"...don't you?"

"Uh, maybe? Not uppermost on my mind."

"But you _eat_."

"Oh, I thought you meant right now.. yes, we eat. And not always Aesir babies." Her eyes glittered.

Thor laughed, then caught her lower lip; it was a deep bluish-purple. He grazed it with his teeth.

Loki moaned. "You're good at distracting me," she said, her voice distorted by the tugged lip.

"It's my new favorite thing."

"All right, but after this, we're talking to Frigga!" Loki tugged on her loincloth, letting it unwind and fall.

"Thank you," Thor breathed.

"Take your clothes off."  She pulled off her sash, leaving her blue body nude.

Thor just obeyed. It felt good in a way following orders or his parents’ admonishments never did.

Loki licked her lips. "I always hated sex, as a woman.  You make me like it."

"Why did you do it, then?" He walked up to her and held her hips. "If you didn't like it?"

"I didn't have a choice," she said, tightly.

"Didn't..." Thor's eyes widened.

Loki shrugged.  "It's just the way things work when you're small."

_Your body is your own. No one else commands it._ The first thing Thor’s mother had taught him about his body, about the bodies of others, when she thought he was of age enough to understand. Breaking this edict was the only crime that got you banished from the King's guard - Thor had seen one or two murders go by without comment, though by all accounts they had been justified. It was so basic, so fundamental. He couldn't quite believe it. "Not here," was all he could manage.

"Well, that's good for you." Was he rubbing her nose in it? "I came to enjoy sex, in male form."  She usually got off that way, at least.

"Please tell me if I do something you don't like." Thor’s voice was shaking. Would she? Had he already hurt her? Aimless anger and guilt filled him like the thunder Loki said he could control. This, he could not.

"Yes, all right." Why was he making such a big deal of it?

Why didn't she understand? It was like hearing someone had their leg chopped off, and having them tell you it was nothing. Confused, Thor touched her again, gently. He got down on his knees.

Loki looked down, surprised. "What?"

"I'm going to try something." She usually got annoyed when he asked permission... He pressed a few fingers between her legs, trying to make her open them.

Loki responded to the force, spreading her legs, wondering what he was getting up to.

Thor pressed his face up, licking at that hard, little nub. _Cold_ , he thought, idly.

Loki cried out, grabbing his shoulders.  God, the wet heat on such sensitive areas! Thor lapped at it, greedily, sucking. "Oh, gods and demons!" Loki whimpered.

He could make Loki feel like that! It was better than any seiðr . Maybe it was seiðr, at that; it felt that way. Thor kept at it, working a finger into her, just barely, very gently.

"More!" Loki gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "In me..."

Three was too much, he remembered. One? He tried, pushing it in fully.

"Uh," Loki gasped. "Yes."

"Tell me if you want more," Thor muttered against her skin. He wasn't sure how much of it made it out for her to hear.

"Make me come.  Go faster." Gods, before Thor, she hadn't realized women could come. Especially like _that_.

He could damned well try! Faster was simple enough, and he did like using his mouth...

"Yes... like that... don't stop..."

Like any power in the Nine Realms could make him!   _Yes_. That was the only thing; the only thing in the universe. Thor threw himself into it.

"Oh gods…” Loki whimpered, her fingers digging into Thor’s shoulders as she shuddered with orgasm.

"You should always feel that good." He kissed the inside of her thigh.

Loki pulled at him.  “In me. I want you to come, too.”  How odd it was, that Thor’s pleasure was so important to her!  And for itself, not as a means to another end.

"Only if I can make you come again, too."

"Yes, fine.”  She fell back into the bed, hauling at Thor.

Thor slid into her like he belonged there, licking at the cool skin, grazing a nipple with his teeth.

Loki gasped.  So slick, so easy, so full, no pain!  “Seiðr…”

Thor shook his head. "How it should be." He rubbed between her legs, getting an idea, now, of what she liked.

If he said so.  Loki bucked her hips to give Thor’s fingers a better angle.  It also gave his manhood a deeper angle, as a happy coincidence.

Maybe... Thor bit her nipple, gauging her reactions.

Loki cried out, clamping down hard on Thor’s manhood.  That was a delicious bite of pain! “Yes!”

Good to know. More for his arsenal. He thrust harder, in no particular hurry, and worked the nipple between his teeth.

Loki squirmed and whimpered, grabbing at Thor’s hair, squeezing on and off at his manhood.  This was utterly brilliant.

A little too much. Just right. But Loki first; always that. Thor pulsed a little faster, rubbing harder, like she seemed to want.

Gods, it wasn’t right, how quickly she could orgasm again as a woman!  She could feel it building in her; she pushed against Thor’s hand, hard.

Yes; now he could let go! Thor thrust harder, leaning up to kiss her.

"Oh, Thor, yes, fill me…”

He yelled. It was never like this before. Maybe it _was_ seiðr?

She felt it – the warm, sweet rush of his seed, filling her, as her own orgasm made her shiver so sweetly.  Not as frantic as the first one, but longer, gentler. She moaned with satisfaction.

"I'll keep you." He wrapped his arms around her. It made no sense, he knew, but his brain told him she was freezing, and needed the comfort of warmth. Probably she was just annoyed by it.

Warm. A smouldering ball atop her. If it went too long, it would be uncomfortable, but for now... it was all right. "Now we go see Frigga."

Thor sighed. "I suppose."

"I can't stand up to your father without her support." This afternoon had made that clear.  The old man was potent, terrifying. "Can you?"

"No," Thor said, tiredly.

Loki pushed at him. "Then we need to do this to be together."

"I know, I know." He also knew his mother. She would sense what they had been doing. It wasn't even a seiðr thing, it was a <i>mother</i> thing.

Loki picked up her loincloth from the floor and started to wrap it back around herself, tying the elaborate knots with precision.

"You do that so easily." Loki did everything with ease. And grace. And poise.

"I've been doing it for three hundred years. I hope I'd have it down by now."

"Not everything is practice, you know."

"I don't believe that. You could do this if you practiced." She tied off the end. "I imagine I could even figure out how your trousers worked if I practiced."

"That's not what I mean. You think everything you do is down to practice. You don't see your own talents." He looked at his trousers as he put them on. What was so odd about them?

"I don't have talents," she said, sharply. "I'm inferior. A runt. Deformed. I had to practice seiðr  and deception to stay alive." Would Thor eventually realize what he was bedding, and come to his senses?

"Stop saying you're deformed!" Thor pulled on his tunic, angrily. Which was a difficult thing to do, but he gave it his all. "You've got two equally impressive shapes and two different genders for each, and they're all breathtaking. How in the Nine Realms is that _deformed_ ?"

"You've seen Jotun," she replied, sharply. "You know what I'm _supposed_ to look like."

"Screw what you're _supposed_ to look like; you look like this! And it's amazing! It's like you're... half Aesir, half Jotun." He frowned.

She grabbed her sash. "Never mind." A dangerous area for the conversation to stray.

"Loki?" Thor was fairly used to people not telling him things, and assuming he was too stupid to tell. This was beginning to feel an awful lot like one of those times.

"I impugn Laufey's blood by existing," she said, shortly, binding her breasts with her sash.

"Why? Because you're deformed?" It was more than that, wasn't it?

"Yes. What frailty must dwell in his blood for him to get a runt?"

"What about your mother?" Loki had never mentioned her.

"Laufey is the parent of my flesh." She tied off the sash.

"...of the what?"

"What you call _mother_ . He bore me."

"...oh." Well, why not? "So all Jotun can shift like that? Like you do?"

"No - not to this extent. It was considered a power, a blessing." Before her.

"So," Thor said carefully, trying not to grin, "you're better than the average Jotun."

"Ask the average Jotun, and they will disagree. " She folded her arms firmly.

Thor shook his head, still grinning. "All right, let's go see my mother."

Loki straightened Thor’s tunic and brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "Yes."

Thor caught her hand. "I am to marry you," he said, looking into her deep-red eyes.

"I want that," she said, sincerely.

"Then let's make that happen."

Loki nodded, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

 

* * *

 

Frigga paused in the mirror to make sure her clothing was neat and her hair was in place.  Not that she wasn't pleased to see her son, but he and the Jotun together - something seemed to be afoot.  She had to be outwardly as well as inwardly prepared.

It took a while for Thor to realize Loki was waiting for him to knock. He did so, feeling a little embarrassed, for more reasons than one.

Frigga opened the door. "So pleased to see you both. Come in." Something about the way they stood, the way Thor's blood was running hot in his cheeks…

"Mother." He hesitated just a second before going in.

Loki bowed to her slightly as she walked in. Well, it should be no surprise that Loki would have a female form, Frigga noted. Or that her son would find this tall, willowy, blue woman at least as appealing as he found the man. She closed the door firmly. "How can I help you?"

"I wish to marry your son," Loki said, firmly.

"I want to marry him," Thor said, at the same time. Loki glanced over, feeling an odd chill of affection.

Frigga sighed. "I know you love each other, and I'm glad of it. But I thought you had more sense."

"I know we spoke before, but I am decided. Nothing else will do. And he... um," he looked at Loki, "she can have children. That argument no longer applies."

"There is more to it than that,” Frigga noted. “Much more."

"You know it will solve many issues," Loki replied. Don't make me spell them out.

"Yes! I will refuse to marry anyone else," Thor added.

Ah, Frigga had felt the same as a teenager herself.  She understood the sentiment. But love had no place in their world.  "Neither the All-Father nor King Laufey will agree to this match."

Loki stepped close and took her hands.  Frigga shivered at the contact, but Loki squeezed harder.  This was so important! "That is why we need your help. We need to bring the All-Father around.  Once he is in agreement, I can make King Laufey see the sense in it."

"This is not some lovesick sentiment,” Thor interjected. “I have never fit in, in court, and you know it. With Loki, there is something here for me. Without him, her; in any form, there is not."

Frigga nodded.  "Don't think I haven't noticed, darling."  She pulled one hand from Loki to touch his cheek.  "The ambassador has been very good for you, and I am appreciative.  There are greater forces involved than simply preference, however. As is so often the case."  Her voice was a little bitter.

"I don't want things as they have always been," Loki replied, trying not to sound sullen.  "I want change."

"Can't you speak plainly?” Thor demanded. “What are these 'greater forces'?"

"The reality of rule," Frigga told him, pulling her other freezing hand from Loki's.  "Do you think I married Odin for love?" She cared for him, she had borne their child - but love?  No.

"Yes, so you keep saying, but what _is_ that, exactly?"

Frigga sighed, walking to the window.  She had been so certain she had done the right thing.  She had borne Odin a son who could be the warrior he always desired, the son he could raise to the throne in good conscience.  How could she have known that it would have come to light in this way? "The Midgardians have more wisdom than I would give them credit for," she murmured, thoughtfully.  " _Therefore whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops._ "  She turned back to the awaiting couple.  Yes, couple. Frigga's and Odin's blood would combine again, through the next generation, and what would come of it?  It was for them to decide. "I will speak with the All-Father. Come back to my rooms tomorrow evening, and we will resolve this."

"Just like that?" Thor felt like he'd missed part of the conversation.

"There is no _just_ , darling.  I promise, I will be more clear tomorrow."  She owed the All-Father the explanation first.

Thor looked to Loki for help. Surely she knew what was going on? She always did.

"You'll tell the All-Father everything?" Loki asked, cocking her head.

"Yes.  All will be made clear."

Now there was a conversation going on _before his eyes_ that he was not part of. Thor looked from Loki, to his mother, and back again.

"Tomorrow evening, then," Loki replied, deflated.  She hated to be put off, to delay, when she knew what was _right_ .

Frigga wrapped her arms around Thor in a tight embrace.  Her poor boy. It was never going to be easy for him.

"I don't think I understand."

"No, darling."  She kissed him. "Tomorrow, you will.  Now go, practice your seiðr." And have more sex with your lover.  Well, she couldn't blame him.

"Yes, Mother." The answer came by rote.

Did Loki pull him out of the room, or did Thor pull her? It was all one.

"Tomorrow," Loki sighed, once they were out of the room. Frigga must be planning to tell Odin. Maybe they shouldn't be in Valhalla tonight...

 

* * *

 

It didn't matter how often Frigga was in Odin's presence.  It didn't matter how well she knew the staging he arranged relative to the beautiful cityscape below.  He was the All-Father. He was King of Asgard, he was master of seiðr , he was potent, he was powerful.  She found herself bowing.

"Wife." He put his hand on her chin, urging her up.  "You need not bow to me."

"I have a confession, All-Father.  A great blot upon my soul. A deed that was simple enough in the commission, and seemed the proper course of action at the time.  But I have come to realize it was a profound betrayal of you, and all our loved ones."

A pause. Hesitation.  Odin's one eye scanning her, searching, probing.  Yes, she could open herself, let him see the truth.  But this needed to come out in words, the pus releasing the festering infection.  "And what is this sin, wife?"

She took a deep breath and spoke clearly.  "I gat Thor with another man."

His face twitched, just in the slightest. His eye blinked, then wandered to the nearby table, where stood a bowl of grapes. Yellow, the seedless kind. He found he had rather a hankering for one. "Oh, yes?"

"Yes." Frigga took a deep breath. "I had three pregnancies die in the womb before Hela, and four after." Their only surviving child was a Goddess of Death. It made a certain sense.

"And so," he said, meandering over to the table, "you wisely took the precaution not to risk the mixing of our blood again. Rather well done, I thought."

She drew herself up. "You knew?" she asked, quietly.

Shrugging, Odin picked up the bowl. "Knew, cared..." They were rather more-ish. "Grape?"

"No, thank you." She looked at his lined, wise face. "Your eye sees all."

"There are myriad possible things, my dear, only some of which come to fruition. I sometimes... meander." Very few things mattered in the long term, really, when you got right down to it. Other than land, and honor.

Frigga was dizzily sorting through the ramifications. "So you were aware that Thor and Loki were not brothers when you forbade them to couple."

"It was a possibility." One of many. It paid to err on the side of caution in these matters. "I suppose I put that Jotun boy rather through the wringer."

"He's a Jotun girl at the moment.  He and Thor wish to marry."

"Uniting the bloodlines." He turned towards her, his face unreadable. "That was your plan all along, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure," she confessed.  "I don't mind the pairing. Loki has been good for Thor.  But will our bloodlines pair any better after a generation of dilution?"

"That would not be the only blood joined."

"No," she sighed.  "Add Laufey - and an idiot."

"A half-breed..." That, in itself, was an unknown factor. Blood mixed into unexpected combinations, becoming greater, or lesser than the whole. Usually greater, in his experience.

"I feel that this union will happen with or without our blessing. They are both very strong-willed."

"So. It might be more prudent, then, to keep it contained by acceptance? Better under our own roof, as it were?" He smiled, a little.

Frigga tried to walk through it with him.  "Loki has power, but not so much as to be uncontainable.  Thor, however - he has incredible power. And Loki is helping him to unlock and control it."

"He's an unusually bright boy, for his age."

"He's been forced to grow up fairly quickly. I'm not so sure I want to share his childhood memories."

"That sort of thing builds character."

"Well, he... she... has plenty of it."

"Yes." In the end, might it not be the best of both worlds? "But after the feast. Ægir has outdone himself, this year."

"Of course.  A wedding must be announced and planned.  We could announce the betrothal at the feast?" Loki should adopt an Aesir female form. With some work, she could look fetching enough to pass.

"Just so."

"Excellent.  Shall I convey the news, All-Father?"

"Yes, yes." Odin waved her on. This would be the way of it, then. Not what he'd expected, but the world had taken some unusual turns lately. Besides, there would still be time for his other plans. And with Thor in no position to refuse it.

Frigga curtsied deeply, then left the room.

 

* * *

 

Loki sat on her bed, pulling in deep breaths, making herself change.  It was more difficult, now. She felt like she was wringing her own neck, dragging herself across the ground, plunging her own face into... yes.  There. Male. He exhaled, then looked up at Thor. "I'm going to be spending a lot of time like this," he said, challengingly.

Thor hesitated. "Because you want to?"

"I like it.  I'm comfortable with it."

Thor visibly relaxed. "Good. Because I can't get enough of it." He leaped onto the bed, straddling Loki and licking at the join of his left horn to his head.

Gods, was the man insatiable?  Not that Loki minded, but his tongue on that sensitive skin... Loki fell back with a groan.

"Just so you know." He held his hands in Loki's hair, nuzzling the base of his horns.

"Uh," Loki moaned, hardening. "Are you never sated?"

"Oh, I am. I'm just enjoying this."

"You're making me want it!" Not that it was a bad thing, it was just... it was.  It was different. Loki was used to being in control, a hard-won control - not of all else around him, but of himself, of his own words and desires.  Thor upset that balance.

"I'm sorry." Thor leaned back. It was so easy to get carried away, but… "I didn't mean to just... take." Like everyone else had.

"I like it from you." Loki traced Thor’s hip. "That's why I want you for myself."

"You still get to say yes or no."

"Yes." That was just a word.  Not all respected it. Thor respected it, but… he altered everything that went into it, just by _existing_.

"Thanks for letting me know." It felt somewhat disconcerting and distressing, like teaching an adult how to eat or sleep.

"...okay." Odd words. Loki kissed him.

In no particular hurry, Thor kissed him back. It was just nice to _be_ like this.

Loki didn’t think he had ever spent so much time kissing.  Not that he minded. He tasted Thor’s warm mouth, exploring it deeply.

"Don't I make you uncomfortable? Being so warm?"

"It's interesting, short-term," Loki noted. "It takes a while to get annoying."

"I like how your skin feels. And your horns."

"I noticed. I don't know why, everyone has them." Except most of them had proper horns, thick and tightly curled.  Not willowy like Loki's.

"I don't." Thor ran a hand along them.

"Is that the only reason you like them?"

"No. They're elegant and graceful. I like the feel of them. They look fierce; like you could gore me in a second if you wanted to."

"I suppose... if you were behind me."  Loki tried to think about the logistics.  They were complex, but workable.

"You're actually considering it, aren't you?" Thor fought the urge to giggle. If Loki was, he realized, he wouldn’t mind. Thor trusted him in everything.

"Not as such, but I'm always interested in novel means of self-defense."

"Can you feel anything in them?"

"Only at the base.  They're dead, like... fingernails.  Hair."

"So they grow?"

"Yes, I have to trim them." He had learned to do it himself, traveling.  Sharp points were unfashionable, but he liked them.

"Sorry, I must seem like I'm asking too many stupid questions."

"I'm different from you and you wonder about me -that's normal.  I just wonder why you people wear so many clothes. It's exhausting to behold."

"It's nice to look at, I suppose. People like dressing up."

"I should dress up in my Aesir form, then," he noted, thoughtfully.  All of these critical little details.

"Not all people," Thor considered, "but some. You don't?"

"I never really thought about it.  I never paid much attention to your clothes.  I identify you people by _things_ \- your hammer, your father's eyepatch... the rest of you all look the same to me," he confessed.  Bad form for an ambassador, perhaps, but he dealt with it as well as he could.

"What do I look like?" Steadying himself on his elbows, Thor looked down at him.

"Big.  Yellow.  Fierce. Like the sun."  The sun of summer, that melts the ice.  The sun to hide from. The blue sky.

Thor smiled, first gently, quietly. As the words sank in, he beamed.

"You know how <i>our</i> bards will sing of our marriage.  The Jotun that tamed the sun." They'd have to put the best possible spin on it, after all.

Suddenly, Thor couldn't speak. He just stared at the impossible person below him; his apparition of ice and magic. "I'm not worthy of that."

"Of course you are.  You're a God of Lightning and a Prince of Asgard.  You've got so much power already, and I'm only going to unlock more."  Loki leaned up to kiss him.

He was crying. Why was he crying? He couldn't remember the last time he'd even thought about crying.

Loki pulled back.  "What's wrong?"

"I don't understand why you want me. No one's wanted me like this." It had to be some sort of trick.

"That's impossible."  Like objects falling upwards.  Like ice cooking meat.

"If... if this is, some sort of plot... some lesson Father is trying to teach me; some last effort to make me fall in line and marry some woman who hates me and that I can't love..."

"What?" Loki pulled back, frowning.  "Why would I be taking orders from _Odin_?"

"It makes no more sense than this." He was sniffling now, like a child. Unmanly. Loki would lose all respect for him.

"I'm a bastard runt who fell in love with the enemy," Loki replied, blandly.  "Nothing surprises me anymore."

"I'm weak! Can't you see that!"

"No. I'm terrified of your power."

"That's not _me_! That's something beyond my control; like... like this!" He touched the tears running down his face. "Except this doesn't accidentally kill the people I love!"

"It's not beyond your control. You showed me!" Loki called up an illusion of Thor, holding a lightning flame confidently in his hand.

Strong limbs, bare-chested with a narrow waist slinking down into a belt impractically heavy with gold; a shining face like a young girl’s fantasy, grinning with too many teeth. Hair flowing of its own accord down a back knotted with muscle. Thor rubbed his eyes, blinking. Did he look like that?

"I saw you do it, Thor,” Loki insisted.  I was there."

"I... want to believe I can do that."

"Why _believe_?  You can. It's real."

Thor held his hand out. Was it real? He clenched his free hand, and concentrated. A small, blue-white spark appeared in his palm .

Loki put his hand on Thor's thigh, encouragingly.  "Yes. Just like that."

Thor looked over at him. At the energy in his face. The fire in his eyes. The curve of his horns... The flicker rose, forming a perfect replica of them.

Loki licked his lips, stunned.  That was... that was amazing. A mind-bogglingly precise degree of control!  "You're... I can't believe you can do that."

"I can, for you."

"Then you can do it anywhere, any time." How many years of practice had Loki spent on glamours?  And how easily had Thor just - done this?

"I want to believe that," he said again. The shape collapsed. Had it ever really been there?

Loki took Thor's face in his hands.  "You're amazing. We'll work more on this tomorrow."  Hell, after a few weeks, who could tell what Loki would unlock? Loki kissed him.

Thor kissed him, shaking a little. It had to be true. It had to be.

Loki pressed close to him, kissing him deeply.  If this did not work out - his gamble with Frigga, and Odin - he wanted to make the most of it while he could.

Thor just held on to him. He'd been honest; there was no life for him in Valhalla without Loki. There was nothing at all.

Loki pushed at Thor's clothes, trying to undo all of those endless fasteners.

"Uh..." Thor took his hand. "Is it OK if we just rest a while?"

"Oh."  What had Loki done wrong? "All right."

Thor folded into him, letting the cold warm him.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki stood in front of the mirror, frowning.  The clothing the servant had brought had been a bit tight in some places, a little loose in others.  That was fairly easily fixed; he could cut cloth with dirks, and leather - as a skin - wanted to re-join with a little seiðr encouragement.  This altered clothing now fit reasonably well.

It was strange to feel the weight of so much hide and metal, like an enemy on his back he wanted to throw off.   But this Aesir form welcomed the warmth. And perhaps, it would help him to stand out and be recognized. Not as much as his Jotun form - not the form that made Aesir cross over to another corridor, or turn around and find a different route to their destination.  But to not blend in to the rest of them, a blue and green among their golds and browns.

It would do.

The bedclothes rustled as Thor stirred awake. He turned, groggily. "Green and black. I like it."

Loki glanced over.  "You do?" He looked back in the mirror.  The clothing  _ did  _ give him the appearance of more bulk than he had.  It made him a little more imposing.

"The gold trim is a nice touch."

Loki walked over, sprawling half-over the bed.  "Are you just going to lie there and critique my clothing all day?"

"I don't know. Does it come off?"

"Now that I've finally put all this on, you want to have sex?" Loki pouted.  But really - was  _ that  _ the trick?  For it to require some effort?

"I'm just teasing. You look incredible."

"I need to look like one of you now and then." Loki sighed.  "I'm marrying an Aesir, after all."

"You certainly look the part in that."

"Good." Perhaps because my father is Aesir, heavens help me. Loki kissed Thor.

"How does it feel?"

Loki frowned. "Heavy. It will take some getting used to."

"There are lighter clothes..."

"This feels right." Like armor. Loki felt like he'd need that, here.

“I should wear my finery, too."

Loki stood. "Yes. I want to see you in it. Then... we'll go see Frigga." And find out if my universe will collapse.

Clothes, to Thor, were a thing that sort of just happened. People made them for you, put them in your rooms and took them away when they were dirty or needed mending. It was not a thing to consider or even think about, and having to do so nearly made him break into a sweat as he dug his way through what turned out to be a fairly unimpressive closet. 

It had taken him some time to even find it, and even more time to figure out where all the different pieces were hiding in drawers and shelves and little alcoves. Every morning, someone went through all this for him. Came into his rooms, made choices for him, locked themselves out again. Thor looked in the elaborate, ornate mirror. What he’d managed to scrounge together would have to do. Red and gold, leather and metal trims; muted dark greys instead of black.

At least it fit him well enough. 

Loki paced, trying to get used to the feeling of the clothing.  He tugged at the sleeves, the shoulders, the crotch of the trousers, his lip twisting.  He watched Thor out of the corner of his eye as the man searched, rifled, donned, emptied drawers, and swore quietly.

"It looks fine," Thor noted to Loki.  The fidgeting was distracting.

"Good."  Loki looked at the final product.  Thor, dressed in clothing that was at least half-armor, metal cloth clinging to his musculature and moving softly as he did.  A blood-red cape. "You look good." Magnificent. Larger than life. Potent. Golden.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Loki fiddled with his cuffs.

"Like you want to, I don't know, eat me."

"I…” Well, the various answers were both simple and complicated.  Loki opted for the simple explanation. “I want you."

That simple? Thor walked over, and kissed him.

Loki wrapped his arms around Thor.  It felt different, now - not so distinctively, excessively warm, and the layers of clothing between them changed the experience.  Thor's body pressed the leather tightly to Loki's flesh. It was... yes, different, odd and unexpected - but rather nice in its own way.

"Then you shall have me."

* * *

 

Frigga whipped the sword in an aggressive slash, using the recovery to poise for a stab.  It felt good to build up a sweat, work out some of her aggression.

And it kept the boys unbalanced, which pleased her as well.  Loki was Aesir and male this morning, she noted. Testing Thor’s affection?  Or Frigga’s reaction? "Yes, boys?" She stabbed, pulled back, whipped the sword behind her to decapitate an imaginary foe sneaking up behind her, and fell back into a defensive stance.

"We..." Loki looked at Thor, then back at Frigga.  "We await the dictate of you and the All-Father, Queen."

Thor took his hand. "Yes." They stood together. In this, as in all things. 

"The All-Father and I are in agreement. You will be betrothed at the Feast of Ægir, in two weeks' time." She decapitated two imaginary opponents. "Loki, you will be an Aesir female for the betrothal."

"As you wish." Loki didn't care. He'd be a salmon for a night if it meant having Thor.

"Then it is settled."

"All right..." Thor hesitated. Wasn't there anything else?

"Loki will continue to tutor you, Thor, and you will practice your seiðr. That is another condition." She slashed at imaginary legs.

"Naturally..."

"Then as I said, it is settled."

"You..." Thor hesitated. "You said you would reveal the reasons for the difficulty. If there are potential obstacles, we deserve to know."

"They were phantoms of my mind. The All-Father has shown me that."

Absolutely nothing about this felt right, but Thor wasn't smart enough to figure out what it might be. He looked to Loki for guidance.

Frigga must have told Odin that Thor was not his son. And he had... been all right with it? Already known? Loki had no idea. But the turn-around from  _ choking him to death  _ for touching Thor to endorsing their wedding... "I don't want to sound ungrateful... but this represents a substantial change from King Odin's prior stance."

"Yes." The sword spun through the air with a whine.

"Mother,” Thor asked carefully, “forgive me for being less than trusting, but I know Father's ways. If there are things which may come to light later..."

The sword whipped through the air, stopping just short of Thor's neck. She put down the sword and smiled, breathing heavily. "I do not question the All-Father's will when it aligns with my own. If you wish to have him rethink his position, you are welcome to speak with him." Her heart ached for these boys. But this, it seemed, was their best chance at happiness. A marriage that made political sense - but also had a deep, abiding love. Truth be told, she was a little jealous. And what did the details of their parentage matter? Thor was Odin's son, by all save his seed.

"I..." All of this was so beyond him. He'd never prepared for such conversations. "I just want to know that this is truly his will," Loki said, firmly.

Frigga put her hand on his cheek, noting the confusion in his eyes, noting that he was trying to hide it. His skin was cold, even in this form. "It is."

If nothing else, Thor trusted Loki. "Then so be it," he said.

Loki bowed. "Thank you, my lady." He would... yes, he would take it.

"Is there anything else?" she asked.

"No, milady." It was more than Loki had hoped for.

"So..." Thor shifted.  They should go, probably? How could anyone know; how did Loki know? He always seemed to. 

Loki tugged at Thor. Let's go.  _ We have what we want _ .

"Uh, Mother," Thor said, in hasty retreat. 

"Come see me at your leisure, my son."

"I... Will?" Was she asking him? Was this yet more intrigue? But his answer seemed to have pleased her, if nothing else. 

"I love you." And damn it all, she did.  She loved both of them. But that was doing nobody any favors.

Thor could only nod. He knew that. Of course he did.

Loki pulled him out of the room, closing the door behind them, and grabbed Thor's tunic. "Thor..."

"Hm?” Emotions and impressions jostled to fit into Thor’s mind uneasily, unaccustomed as it was at having so much work to do. “What?" 

"I... I have to go back. To Jotunheim. Get Laufey's consent. But I will, I promise, and then return..." His words stumbled over each other.

_ Loki  _ doubted that Thor trusted  _ him _ ? "Of course." He held a hand to Loki's face. "I trust you."

Loki kissed him, hard. Could he believe in this?

"Do you have your dirks on you?" Thor asked.

“Uh - yes, always, why?”

"May I?" Thor held out a hand. Loki flashed one out into his right hand, then turned the hilt to Thor. Taking it, Thor cut a good, solid strand of his hair, close to the scalp. He handed the dagger back to Loki, then held the strand out. "If you'll accept."

Loki took it. "I'll braid it in." Potent seiðr  indeed. And it was only fair... he cut off a lock of his own.

"Thank you," Thor said wide-eyed, taking it, reverently. He had not expected that. What little he knew of seiðr, he did know this: the melding of blood or bodies was potent. He would quite literally have something of Loki with him now, always. 

"I'll think of you." Especially now.

"Will this link us?" He had heard such things might be done, but would this be enough? 

"Yes." A ghost of a smile. "If you'll permit me to braid it in, it will link us very... directly."

"Please." This, more than the marriage, was what Thor craved. 

"Let's go back to your room." Loki wanted to do this.  He started walking there with long, ground-eating strides.  This would work better, of course, if he assumed the form he would be wearing at home - and therefore he shifted to Jotun as they walked.

Thor followed him, like a shadow. Marveling a little, as always, that he was allowed to do so. 

One thing that Loki had not counted on was the discomfort of having all of these layers of Asgardian clothing atop a form that was already overly warm in this castle.  He started to strip as soon as he walked in the door, awkwardly pulling off clothing one-handed to avoid letting go of the golden strands in his hand. 

Wanting to help, but certain he would only make things worse, Thor hovered on the sideline. 

The cloak fell to the ground, the jacket, the tunic, and Loki took a deep, relieved breath.  His lower body was still excessively layered, but at least the heat could dissipate from his bare torso.  He looked over to Thor.

Spellbound, possibly literally, Thor stepped forward. 

Loki put the golden strands on the bed, and reached out for the black ones in Thor's hand.  "Here. Let me."

Thor moved even closer, inclining his head. 

Loki brought the black hair close to Thor's yellow.  They resisted, their energies so  _ different _ , not wanting to be close to each other.   _ Come now, my lovelies _ , he murmured in the language of the Jotun, encouraging them, touching them, the wooing of seiðr that came so naturally to him when  _ people  _ weren't involved.   _ You are so beautiful, the light against the dark, you were meant to be together... _  And slowly, carefully, they accepted each other, twisting together against each other, embracing tightly.

Gasping, Thor felt at his chest - he was warm, much too warm, and his skin felt wrong. His heart beat too fast and his clothes were too cloying and heavy. He saw... he saw himself, as Loki saw him. A bright, glowing orb of affection, power, joy. His eyes stung. "Yes," he whispered. 

Loki pressed his lips to Thor's for a brief, heartfelt kiss.  "Yes." He tied off the end of the plait carefully with a slender leather cord.

"Take mine," Thor begged. He needed to see this, to feel this, too.

"Yes."  Thor's hair quivered anxiously in his hands.   _ It's all right.  I'll take care of you.  I love you _ .  The strands slipped into his own hair, holding them tightly, strongly, solidly, sending to Loki their own vision of him - exotic, graceful, mysterious, nothing he had ever thought applied to  _ him. _

"You see, now?" Thor couldn't stop grinning. 

"Yes," Loki said, slightly amazed, tying off his own plait.  "I don't know why you see me that way." And would familiarity eliminate the  _ exotic _ and  _ mysterious _ parts of his appeal to Thor?

"You are that way, to me."

Loki didn't want to think about it too hard.  This was his last night; he wanted one more taste of how uncomplicatedly wonderful Thor made him feel.  "Make love with me."

"Yes. In this form. Please." Could he make him understand, through the bond? How much he liked it? 

Loki nodded, unstrapping his Aesir boots, ridding himself of the rest of that heavy clothing.

"You can take me, if you want." Why not? It seemed like Loki enjoyed it.

Loki shivered with unfamiliarity. "I've never done that." And nothing was worse than being  _ bad  _ at something. If he were to learn through practice, it should not be on someone so important.

"O...only if you like. I thought you might?" 

"Maybe later."  The idea of doing something so unfamiliar, when so much else was in flux and new, was distressing.

Distress and worry and  _ dislike  _ flowed through him. "It's OK. It's fine. I want you." He tried to radiate love, and want, and the pleasure he took in Loki. 

The bond of Thor's love put an icy breeze through Loki's heart, solidifying it, strengthening it.  He put his arms around the man and kissed him.

Was it possible that Loki enjoyed just his touch  _ that  _ much? Thor pulled him close, lifting him up in his arms. 

The mad thrill of someone so strong, able to manhandle Loki with such ease - but  _ without  _ the sick fear of whatever malice they might have in mind.  Loki shared that through their bond.

_ Who hurt you? _ Anger, wild and untamed, directed at this unknown source. Thor kissed Loki, hard, throwing him on to the bed. 

Yes, a little roughness, a little violence, but all so  _ safe _ .  It was addictive!  Loki moaned with pleasure, basking in the attention of his own personal sun.

Did he... Loki liked that. A little giddy, Thor held Loki's hands above his head, pressing him down with his body. 

Would Thor be disgusted, surprised, at Loki's reaction? Or the fact that he was experiencing it both from inside his head and against his stomach?

Groaning, Thor pulled himself up, and licked at the join of Loki's horns. He pressed down against the burning cold erection.

Loki cried out, pouring the unbearable pleasure back to Thor through the bond.

Gasping, Thor nearly lost his grip.  _ Oil.  _ He (or was it Loki) needed to be inside him, now. 

Redoubled desire flowed back to Loki. "In me now," he gasped.

Thor knew where the oil was. How did he know? Spilling it over everything, he did not bother preparing, but pressed inside. He knew it was welcome. He knew... the  _ pain  _ was welcome. Made no sense, but it did not matter. 

Loki shivered and wailed. He could feel how tight he was, how much he was squeezing Thor's prick, how hot he was, how cold he was, the delirious, dizzying pleasure…

"Realms, I love you..." Thor thrust, putting all of his weight on Loki's wrists. 

"Thor," was all Loki could manage. "Oh..." He was so helpless in the man's arms, impaled and held and  _ pleasured _ . Just for this moment, the center of his universe.

Thor could feel every thrust, every shiver of heat/chill through his body. Their body. Thor gasped. 

"Thor," Loki moaned, staring, lost, into the man's blue eyes. "It's us, us..."

"Yes!" He was the sun. Thunder, raining down on barren ground. His skin curled with the pleasure he felt it give. 

Loki was going to melt.  It was terrifying, and yet wonderful.  He felt himself drowning, liquid sunshine pummeling him.

Yelling, Thor spilled himself dry, little flames licking across his and Loki's skin. 

Wet, warm come, filling him, deeply, sweetly.  Loki moaned, squirming, grabbing himself, trying to move his hands.

Thor let go, needing to hold him. Needing him closer still. He wrapped his arms around Loki.

It had all settled  _ just  _ enough for Loki to grab himself, stroking hard until he spilled.   A second orgasm? Thor, or Loki? It didn't seem to matter.   Loki stared glassy-eyed and open-mouthed at the ceiling, whimpering a little as he stroked himself through it.

"I love you. I would kill for you."

Loki put one come-wet hand on Thor's side.  "I would kill for you, too," he replied, sincerely.

"No one will ever harm you again."

Loki frowned gently.  It was a fine sentiment, but - "Nobody can guarantee that."

"I am a god, to many." 

"Not to my people.  Not yet..."  Soon, yet not soon enough.  They would know him as a benevolent God as well as a Butcher, strong and just, slow to anger yet potent when aroused.

"I could feel them... someone hurt you. I need to know. I will destroy them."

Loki shrugged.  "Everyone does it.  It's not worth so much anger.  Do you really want to know?"

That made it worse. Why couldn't Loki see that? "Yes!"

"All right..."

Loki closed his eyes, gently pressing some memories through their bond.  It was easy, with them both here together, their defenses down from the sex, the bond still fresh and raw...

_ His first seiðr tutor, the Jotun’s blue skin dark with age, congratulating him every time he did a spell correctly by rubbing his sensitive, budding horns, then retreating behind his desk and touching himself while staring... _

_ His arms instructor, big and imposing, uncomfortably attractive to an inexperienced boy, one hand over Loki's mouth, taking his virginity against the wall while they were both sweat-slick from a practice session... _

_ Two bigger boys and one bigger girl, children of lesser parents, throwing him into a lake, freezing it over his head, laughing as he tore his way out with claws and horns... _

_ An older Aesir who looked oddly like Thor, touching Loki, alcohol on his breath, leering, bragging... _

_ His friend Brynawr, holding him down, murmuring in his ear that he had seen Loki buggered by his armsmaster, promising to tell Laufey unless he had a taste, too... _

_ A sweet moment of revenge, the illusion of flat ground, the attempted bullies falling into the concealed ditch, screaming as they fell - except Iolani leaped out and jumped on him, fists swinging… _

Thor screamed. Tearing himself away, he stumbled from the bed, shaking with anger and fear and disgust. He found his leathers and clutched them to his chest, too exhausted to put them on. "Kill them," he muttered. "I will kill them all."

"Come back to bed," Loki sighed. He didn't want to feel all of this anger after sex. He just wanted to luxuriate in Thor's affection. KM

"They..." Thor felt the pain, the hurt, the fear, the humiliation, the never-quite-safe, and he wanted to hide. He wanted to scream. He wanted to destroy everything. He fell to his knees, holding his head. 

Loki slid off of the bed, sighing. He knelt next to Thor. "I shouldn't have done that." He had been able to acclimate in time, after all, hadn't been hit with it all at once.

"You can't go back there." Pain. Fear. Hurt. Betrayal. 

"I have to go back! These are my people. I'm their prince."

"They don't deserve you."

Loki laughed. "You could take that two ways."

"If you have to go, take me with you."

"You would not be welcome. Not yet," Loki replied, bluntly. "You have a reputation in Jotunheim."

“Good.” If they thought Thor took pleasure in slaughter, let them be right for once. 

Loki put a placating arm on Thor's shoulders. "What's more important, revenge on my childhood bullies, or marrying me?"

"Bullies! They  _ raped  _ you!" 

"More important than our future?" Loki repeated, doggedly.

"I..." He tried to explain through the bond.  _ Helpless. Love. Anger. _

Loki sank to a seated position with a sigh. "I had gotten over it all. I just wanted to look forward to a future with you." Now it was all raw again.

"I'm sorry." It was no different, was it? Even in this. He just made everything worse, always.

Loki touched him. "I... appreciate that you care so much." It was difficult to know how to handle it.  He just wanted Thor to know, to understand. Not to  _ pity  _ him so painfully.

"I won't hurt us. Just tell me what to do." 

"Stay here. Learn  seiðr . Be a king. When we are emperors, surveying our vast domain... we will have our revenge."  Reigning happily, not caring about  _ those  _ people anymore.

"Promise me?" Thor’s voice broke. He clutched at Loki’s arms, shifting closer to him on the bed. 

"Yes." Living well. Being  _ better than _ . That was the sweetest revenge.

Thor grabbed him. Held him tight.  _ Love. Protectiveness. Need. _

Loki grabbed him back. _ Gratitude. Hero-worship. _

"Please be careful. Will I still feel you, there?"

"Yes. Distance diminishes, but it does not go away."

"Then I will be with you."

Loki hugged him again.

* * *

The bifrost was as much a part of the landscape as the sea or sky or cresting woods; a line across the horizon, above the waters, out over the city below. When Thor walked across it, as he rarely did these days, he barely considered where he was. Loki, he noticed, paid little heed to his surroundings either, but now and then his eyes would flicker to the movement of a ship skidding in the air around them, or in the water below, and they would glitter in shades of red and maroon. Thor felt it too, through the bond; the barely-contained awe, the underlying guilt and resentment that something should be grander than his home, and that he might even prefer it. Now and then their eyes met, and at Loki’s unspoken question, Thor would grin and look away. 

And all this besides, the day was fair; the winds were light and sweet, and his skin still sang with Loki’s touch. Nothing could break them apart now. Not distance, not space, no dimension, even time. The marriage was irrelevant in all other than formality; Thor had what he wanted. Though here they were, and Loki was turning to him, perfectly poised and showing nothing of what he truly felt. Thor took his hands. 

"Thank you  for accompanying me." It was a short, easy trip, but to have Thor the last thing he saw before Jotunheim - it was pleasing.

"I wish I could go further." 

"You will," Loki promised. "When we are wed, you will rule from our ice palace as well as from Asgard."

"I'll need a lot of furs,” Thor grinned.

"We will provide." Loki felt giddy.  Thor at the Jotunish castle, wrapped in fur, reigning with an ice-crusted hammer.

"My future king."

"My future spouse."

All right, so Heimdall was eyeing them from the side, but when did Heimdall not, for all intents and purposes? Thor kissed Loki, who returned it with a sigh. 

"I will visit you in your dreams."

"You can do that?"

"Thanks to this." Loki touched his hair, the lock of Thor's braided into it.

Thor leaned in closer. "Every night," he whispered, pointlessly. If Heimdall wanted to know, he would know. 

"I promise." Loki glanced at Heimdall, then away. He'd still have to figure out what role this man played here, and why he was so interested in Loki's sex life.  For now, he stood motionless, looking straight ahead, as if he did not know Loki. As if he did not know anyone.

"You will return for the feast?"

"I swear."

* * *

Once he had returned to King Laufey’s ice palace, Loki took no more than twenty minutes to bathe in his footed porcelain tub, ice crystals crusted on the sides like diamond, and dress in his formal loincloth, lined with platinum.  Punctuality was critical. He cleaned his hair and entered the presence of King Laufey in his vast throne room, blue and pleasantly cold.

“Loki, my son,” Laufey rumbled.  “You have returned."

Loki stepped close to the throne, formed of the bones of rare beasts bound with ice.  He kissed Laufey’s sandal-clad feet. His journeys had the mixed blessing of giving him perspective – he could see Laufey age with each trip he took, his flesh growing darker, his face more lined.  “Yes, my King,” he replied. “I bring you news.”

“Rise, Loki,” Laufey commanded, and Loki obeyed.  “Does this news have aught to do with the strands of sun you have brought into my presence?”

Loki touched the lock of Thor’s hair that was plaited into his own.  “Yes, my King. I have bound it to my will.” The fact that he had bound his own to Thor’s was not necessary at the moment.

“Yes,” Laufey noted.  “Your seiðr is strong.” Unsaid – _ the only thing you have that is _ .  “Proceed.”

“I am betrothed, my King.”

Laufey leaned forward, his voice rumbling more deeply, more ominously.  “To whom, my son?”

“Thor, the Butcher of Asgard.”

Laufey leaned back.  His next comment was intended to shock, to unsettle.  “You know he is your brother. Odin’s son.”

“Adopted,” Loki replied, blandly.

Laufey steepled his fingers, processing this statement.  “You say this with great certainty, my son.”

“Yes, my King.  This news is for your ears only.  As the parent of my seed is a closely kept secret,” even from me, you old bastard, “so is his.  Our marriage will be a great boon to Jotunheim.”

“It is an intriguing match,” Laufey replied.  “You are far more intelligent than Thor Odinsson, and he is far more powerful than you.  His power under your control would be a mighty force.”

“This is my aim,” Loki replied.  He had higher hopes for Thor’s intelligence than Laufey, but there was no need for his parent to know that.

“And all children of your union will be of your flesh,” Laufey noted, thoughtfully.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Have you attempted coitus?” Laufey asked.  “As a female, that is? I expect you will have already bedded half of Asgard as a male.”

Loki swallowed his prickly response.  “Yes, my King,” he replied, keeping his mien carefully neutral. “I can mate with him.”

“Then I am well pleased,” Laufey replied.  “You know I despair of you keeping your throne when I am dead.  But with Thor Odinsson by your side, the name of Laufey may survive.  Go, rest from your travels, and we will speak more of this later. Stay on top of your seiðr, and make sure that you bring your silver tongue back to Asgard, not your poison tongue.”

“Yes, my king.” Loki kissed his feet again.

* * *

“You leave tomorrow.”

Thor turned his head. He had been watching the ravens circle from the open window, the whole of Asgard spread out before the tower above the War Room. He had not expected Odin to speak; he rarely did in these quiet moments together after a strategy meetings, all the words having been drawn out of him. It could almost be amicable. “Leave?”

Odin tutted. “You were paying attention, weren’t you, boy?”

“Yes, of course; I-”

“Nothing better! You’ll see the armsmaster this afternoon, and everything will be ready by morning.” Odin smiled. Outside, Hugin or Munin, it was hard to tell, had gotten whiff of some small creature far below, and dove with an excited screech. 

“The armsmaster? For a diplomatic mission?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

Thor turned away from the chatter of the feeding birds. “Father?”

“This is a military operation, Thor.” 

“Yes, but a peaceful one. We are there to regain order. That’s what you said; that’s what the general said.”

“Regain order. Just so. And for that, we require your quite considerable talents. Don’t worry; it’s only a small contingent.” 

Something was not right, but Odin was meeting Thor’s eyes with his one, and there was nothing untoward said or done. 

* * *

“What?” General Gautson asked, booming a laugh.  “You expect them to just hand over Troms?”

Loki forced himself to remain calm.  Such a tedious old fart, who knew nothing but bashing in Aesir skulls.  “I have drawn up an agreement. Official condemnation of forays, and withdrawal from the disputed territory to the South to the agreed border…”

“So we give them everything, and get a worthless promise in return,” Gautson grumbled.  “I will not support this. Just because you fear a good fight does not mean I and my men do!”

“Enough,” Laufey interjected, leaning forward.  “I will review the terms of this agreement more closely and make my decision.”

Loki leaned back, fuming.  It was bad enough that Laufey did not support him. But his parent did not even use his size and reputation to carry his own will, these days.  He was getting old and tired, yes. And did not trust his son.

Loki’s dark thoughts were not helped by the lack of sleep in the weeks since his return.  The feel of Thor since he had left had been distressing. Vague unease and distress in the first day, but now, it was all wild static, anger, a racing heart, a sense of excessive exertion. Almost no sleep for Loki to slip into in his dreams, which meant Loki did not sleep himself…

Something was wrong.

He and the idiot general bowed to Laufey and left his presence.  Loki hurried back to his own quarters, sat on the bed, closed his eyes, and reached out to Thor directly.   _ Where are you?  What is wrong? I need you. _

_ Fear, worry, revulsion, guilt, concern, exhaustion _

_ I'm coming _ , Loki pushed back at him.  As soon as he could arrange it.

_ Utter fear, attempt at rejection. Come. Not. guilt, shame, fear. _

Yes.  Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Loki rubbed his eyes.  He had to go. He had to find out what in the nine realms was going on.  He had to find Thor and fix this, bring the man back. He reached out for Laufey’s mind.  _Please, dam. I need to go to my betrothed._

_You are to leave three days from hence. Prepare today, my son, and arrive when you are expected. You are still an ambassador._

_But..._

_ No. Life is long. You will learn patience. _

Loki rose from his bed and paced in his room, wildly, back and forth.

A figurine on the table shattered.

_ Fear _

“ _ Fall back! _ ” Blood and fear soiled the air, tainted each of Thor’s laboured breaths. He screamed to the men and women surrounding him, but they were locked in desperate battle. 

_ Worry _ .

It happened in an instant, the moment of half a thought. At the first sign of blue bodies in the tall grass, the general had ordered them to arms, and Mjølner, stirred by Jotun blood, had flown into Thor’s frightened hands. The rest was chaos. There had been too many. They kept coming, and by then it was too late; the soldiers were under his protection, and the Jotun were fierce and desperate, seeking death at his hands, screaming in terror all the while. 

_ Revulsion _ . 

Even the children fell upon them. Thor tried to fend them off, kicking when the flailing and his yells of shock and horror did not help, but all they did was come back. Easy fodder for the swords of his comrades. 

_ Guilt _ .

No one heeded him. Not the soldiers, not the Jotun, none of whom were dressed for battle, none of whom had weapons of any order of magnitude. They fought with claws and teeth and  seiðr. 

Mjølnir sang. 

_ Exhaustion _ . 

* * *

Frigga stood as the guest stalked into her chambers like a winter storm.  "Young Laufeyson! And how are you, on the eve of your betrothal?"

"Well, my betrothed is missing, so very poorly," Loki snapped, pacing.

"Thor is in the East.” She stood her ground, schooled by a lifetime of rule. “On a military exercise." 

Loki paused and stared at her levelly.   "Please, milady, don't play games with me.  Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, dear boy. Why would you think so?" 

Did they think he was stupid?  Naive?  _ Trusting _ ?  Loki tugged at the strand of yellow hair braided into his own.

"Ah. You have me at a disadvantage.” And his emotion, frankly, concerned her. Yes, they were young and in love, and this one had quite the impressive flair for drama, but the situation was volatile. 

"So tell me what you know, woman!" Loki cried out, frustrated.

"You know more than me,” she told him, truthfully, “through your connection; as I say, you have me at a disadvantage. Thor went off on a military campaign in the East two days ago. Beyond that, I know nothing."

Loki crossed his arms.  "And before that, he was completely normal," he deadpanned.  Thor had been off since the day Loki left.

"Shortly after you left, he went to see his father. I have not spoken to him since." 

"What did he talk to  _ my  _ father about?" Loki asked, snarkily.

"It was not for my ears," Frigga explained, patiently. He really was quite perturbed. "You worry for him."

Loki resumed his pacing, working his hands. "Something is wrong. Very wrong."

"Tell me what you have felt." Their bond was clearly a strong one, as with all their joined seiðr. Her Thor’s hair shone through Loki’s like a beacon; a halo. 

"He's upset. He didn't want me to come back here," Loki sighed.

Oh, was  _ that  _ all. Frigga exhaled in joint relief and annoyance. "He does wear his heart on his sleeve. He's probably nervous of what is to come."

"This was a degree of upset and revulsion at me that exceeds prenuptial jitters," Loki replied, acidly.

"Revulsion?" The worst Thor had felt about his father was mild dislike. What had Odin said to the poor boy?

"That's what it felt like," Loki replied, defensively.  As well as could be put into words.

"I wish I could help. I truly know nothing more."

"Damnation." Loki worked his hands.  "When is he to return?"

"In time for the feast."

"Not before? Just..." Loki sighed.  He needed to talk to the man, find out what was wrong!  They were betrothed!

"I could see if the All-father knows more..."

Loki grasped her hands.  "I would be in your debt.  He doesn't have a great deal of love for me."  We haven’t spoken properly since he tried to strangle me.

This strange child, who loved her son. Frigga’s heart ached, suddenly and violently for him.  "If something is indeed amiss, Thor will need your support when he returns."

Loki huffed out a laugh.  "That isn't a good prognosis."

She let her hand rest on his arm. "He is better for your presence. Always. I thank you for that."

Loki patted her hand awkwardly.  He didn't really like women, but he liked  _ her _ .

"I will ask." 

"Thank you.  I'll... I'll make myself how I need to be for the feast."  Female. Aesir.

"Oh yes - I've had the tailors arrange for something to be sent to your rooms. A selection of styles, I'm sure you'll find something to your liking."

His liking.  Loki's spine tensed.  "It's not my liking that matters.  Whatever is most appropriate for the function."

"They all are." She smiled, a little sadly. "When locked by constraint, we must find our own modes of expression. I'm sure you're familiar."

"What are yours?"

"My seiðr. These rooms; I decorate them as I see fit." Thor. But she had not been able to mold or enhance, much less protect him. 

Loki nodded.  "They're beautiful.  And less ostentatious than Odin's."

She laughed. "He has his own way with things."

Loki nodded, reluctantly pulling his arm away.  The cold couldn't be comfortable for her. "Thank you, milady."

"Ambassador."

Loki bowed.   _ Ambassador _ .  Son-in-law, daughter-in-law, he had also hoped to be... now, who knew.  He walked out and to his assigned rooms, noting the Asgardians who made gestures to ward off evil seiðr as he walked by.

* * *

"Enter, my dear. I saw you coming from across the courtyard."

Frigga curtsied formally.  "All-Father."

"You've come to see me for a reason, I should think."

"As always, my King.  The Ambassador from Jotun has arrived."

"Yes, so I gather."

"He and Thor exchanged hair and bonded with seiðr before he left.  He has been receiving disturbing sensations. I'm worried about Thor."

"How very efficient you are, my dear." He kept his attention on a hanging potted plant, which was in bad need of pruning. 

"What did you discuss before he left?" she asked.

"Thor? Oh, just a minor military matter."

"A minor matter with no relevance to his upcoming betrothal - his spouse, the kingdom he will marry into?"

"Just so. I thought it prudent for him to be more... directly involved with the day to day running of the realms."

Frigga pulled in a deep breath, schooling her mien to stern dignity. "Where is my son?"

"East in the Kingdom, just beyond the mountains. A minor problem with the locals."

"A foray?  By the Jotun - or by us?"

"Nothing of the kind; simply a matter of tidying up affairs neatly."

"You are speaking in airy metaphor, my husband.  This is not the Odin I know."

He nodded, thoughtfully. "And this Odin you know; how would he phrase himself, I wonder? Would he say that your son is is in the East, killing Jotun?"

Frigga's lip set.  "Did you send him to collect severed heads as a gift for his betrothed?"

"I sent him," Odin said, a little more sharply now, "on a military operation. He is a soldier, just as I was and am. He's been excused from that duty for far too long. He needs to learn that there is no exception, even for the king."

"You always said that a leader must never start war, but always be prepared for it.  We have the opportunity, here, to start a new era of peace."

"And Laufey is waiting for us to show signs of weakness. The Jotun on Asgardian soil are breaking the treaty, and we are fully within our rights to extract them. What would you have me do; welcome them with open arms?"

"They are weak, especially in our warm lands.  They make their noise, and we drive them out. We do not need to kill them."

"What we need to do, is set an example."

"An example that they must fight to the death, because we will give them no quarter."  And with Loki as their king, their tactics would mature, she was certain. 

"The broke the treaty. They were warned, repeatedly."

Odin was, technically, correct.  Which, to him, was the best sort of correct.  She bowed her head, resigned. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, the end. One of our original motivations was to do an updated version of the Feast of Ægir, so it was fun to finally get there!

Loki approached the banquet hall warily.

If what male Aesir wore seemed excessively thick and heavy, what females wore was… a punishment for some long-forgotten sin.  A thick leather tunic was bound tightly by ribs of bone, crushing her waist and pushing her small breasts up to, it seemed, her chin.  Intricate gloves were laced up her arms and around her fingers, and matching intricate laces bound leather boots up her thighs. A leather skirt was covered with bars of gilded aluminum.  She felt like some combination of a prisoner and a tank.

She awkwardly pushed open the door.  The feast was already begun; the hall was loud with shouts, jokes, laughter…

No Thor.  She did not hear his booming voice, feel his presence.

"Well!" The burly man stood a full head taller than Loki, who was no shorter in her female form than her male. He blocked her entry into the hall, not so much by force as by the sheer power of his presence.  "And what business have you here, young lady?"

No Thor.   _Shit_.  “I am a guest of the royal family.”

"A _guest_ , no less!” The words hung heavy with implication. “Well, I happen to be the doorman at this establishment, and I have a complete list of all guests here, as approved by the royal family. You are not on it."

Guest list.  Loki bristled.  "Then there has been a mistake with your _list_.  Ask Frigga.”

The mountainous man sighed. "Listen, Loki Laufeysdotter. I know who you are. And I know what they're saying about you." He jerked a thumb behind him, "in there."

"And just what would that be, _doorman_?” she asked, her voice as icy as her homeland.

"No one wants a Jotun on the throne. Even as a concubine. Much less a runt like yourself, who's bedded half of Asgard."

She drew herself upright.  “Have a care, little man.” Little in scope, if not literal stature.  “I am betrothed to Thor Odinsson.”

"Oh, we all know that. Some are taking bets on how long it will take him to tire of icy twat."

"Far longer than it takes me to tire of your hot air.” She pushed him in the chest, putting some seiðr behind the shove.

The man fell aside, sliding all the way down the corridor and away from her, and good riddance. Now revealed was a resplendent dining hall. Loki walked in, trying not to reveal her awe.  If the halls of Jotunheim were silver, then this was gold; from the gleaming floors to the high reaching pillars and the glittering, far off ceiling. A central fireplace reflected in each surface, making the room seem on fire. Row upon row of Aesir, a few humans, and a dark elf or two sat along vast benches at mirror-polished tables, overflowing with food and drink. And as Loki entered, they all fell silent.

Loki stepped into the room, frowning.  “Why so quiet?” she asked, her voice echoing in the hall.

Trays of food and drink floated effortlessly through the room, pausing here and there to chat to guests. Now, however, the guests were not responding. The trays, mindless things, cared not, and kept on moving. Here and there, an Aesir coughed. 

Loki stepped farther forward into the room.  The guests steadfastly ignored her, although a large grey dog got up from its place by the fire and trotted over to her, bumping her thigh with its nose and sitting next to her.

“Odin,” Loki said, calling out the king who was steadfastly avoiding looking at her.

"You are not welcome here, Laufeysdotter." To his credit, or not, Odin finally met her eyes with his one. 

To hel with the old man's intrigues and secrets. This was basic hospitality! "I am your blood, and your will turn me out of your hall?"

"Vidar," Odin said, not moving his gaze, "pour the young lady a bowl of ale."

"Thank you," Loki said, sarcastically, taking the bowl and sitting. She drank a long draught. "Thank you all." Except for _that_ asshole. The one who had not let her in.

"All right," the words rang out, as far as Loki could tell, from somewhere near the kitchens. "We've all had a bit of drama. Now let us have peace." The man looked to Loki, meaningfully. There came murmured assents of _well spoken, Brage_.  One of the Aesir council inner circle, as far as Loki had been able to tell.

"Drama?" Loki took another draught.  "The only drama is coming from you, Brage. Drama _queen._ "

"I beg your pardon?" The crowd erupted in a fair melange of gasps and giggles.

"You talk of _too much drama_ when you can only stand against the wall when it's happening," she groused, taking another draught. "You're as useless as Odin. The Jotun rejoice when he goes to war against us; it guarantees our victory. Why do you think he sent Thor out to do his work?"

"If this were not the Hall of Ægir, I would have your head for this." Brage practically vibrated.

"You couldn't take my head if I laid it in your lap."

"Let's-" a woman's voice broke in, "take things a little easy, shall we?" It was Idunn, the palace chef.

"Yes, take your husband out and suck him off, he's making too much noise." Loki drained his bowl.  One of the self-serving trays immediately refilled it. Loki pushed it away and snatched the bowl back. "You can't keep your subjects under control, _all-father_?"

"I would have you remember your place, Laufeysdotter," Odin said, heatedly.

"My place is at your table. Try to raise the intelligence of the group overall." The beer was very good, at least.

"Mind your manners, Jotun," Idunn said, sharply.

"I thought you were all convinced that Jotun had no manners? Try to keep up, dear."

"How," boomed the voice of the All-Father himself, "do you stand there in judgement, when you yourself cannot even decide on a form! Rumor has it you've been taking whichever shape that pleases your gaggle of lovers; turning your flesh to the whim of any that ask it. Though I expect the Jotun are not quite so picky."

Loki leaped to her feet. "And you have never done the same? Don't tell me you reached such proficiency at seiðr with a _dick_ attached." Let him even try to deny it.

Scandalized gasps and whispers filled the room. Then, a familiar voice: "Loki." It was Frigga. Standing out in any crowd, here she commanded silence by her look alone. The voice was an afterthought; an added warning.

Loki grabbed the bowl from the table and turned it in her hands. Damn it, she _liked_ Frigga.

"Stop this.” By all the gods, she looked magnificent. Her hair, in honor of the nature of the festivities, was partially down, framing her face with gold that outshone the hall itself. “Thor will return soon, and all will be ended."

"And where _is_ your son? You let Odin manipulate him however he pleases..." Freya gasped at Loki’s disrespectful words to the     queen of Asgard. Well may she do so. "Oh, I'm getting familiar with _that_ noise from having my rooms next to you. And they say _I_ bed too many men..."

" _Enough_ " The sound fell through the hall like a ball of iron.

Loki spun to face the newcomer.

"Loki," Heimdall said, his voice like heavy clouds, "you are dizzy with drink. Take care. No man can hold his tongue when he is drinking."

"Yes, strange things happen when you drink," Loki snapped, "like taking young boys back to your room so they don't fuck anybody else?"

The room surged in uproar. Heimdall stood tall, but then again, he could hardly do otherwise. But next to him, a raven-haired woman stood to confront Loki. But before she could speak more than an outraged syllable, Loki retorted:

"Stop bitching, Sif. Everyone knows you couldn't care less about me if I weren't betrothed to the man _you_ first staked claim to. Was it a waste of a good evening?"

Cries of 'do something' and 'All-Father, will you stand for this' raged through the hall. The fire roared.

"He'll stand for anything that gets his dick wet," Loki noted, taking another draught. "Even a Jotun."

A roll of thunder echoed through the hall, so loudly that every tongue was immediately silenced. The massive doors - so massive, indeed, that Loki had not realized they _were_ doors, rather than a wall - burst open. Silhouetted in the rain and storm, stood a hulking figure, holding that hammer of legend. _Thor_. Or was this the Butcher of Asgard? All eyes turned to the soaking wet giant, as his massive shoulders shuddered. In rage? Perhaps simply from the cold, though his eyes were liquid fire.

"That," his voice crackled, "is my wife."

" _Now_ you show up?" Loki cried.

"Leave this place,” Thor raged, throwing out a ragged arm, little left of his shining armor. “There is nothing for you or me here!"

Loki opened herself up to his bond, greedily sucking in his emotions, examining them.   _Utter  exhaustion, fear, love, heartache, guilt, disgust_. “I will _not_ leave you,” she snapped, stubbornly.

"Then _come with me!_ " He held his hand out. No more of this. No more games, no more lies, no more pointless killing.

Loki tossed the bowl aside and strode to him, taking his hand. Sweeping his hand back, Thor threw his hammer into the hall. The crowd screamed in panic, but Mjølner landed safely in the middle of the floor, standing there like a guardian. Thor pulled Loki along as he strode away.

"Where are we going?" Loki puffed, stumbling behind him.

"Away from here."

"We could swim." Loki felt giddy. Thor was here. Thor loved her, wanted her. She was quite drunk.

"Swim?" Had Loki lost... Thor looked closely... _her_ mind?

"Like fish." She hiccuped.

She was certainly drenched like one. Swaying slightly from side to side, leaning over the railing to the river below. "Are... Are you _drunk?_ "

"Of course I am, Thor, I missed you!" She stared petulantly into his eyes, trying to communicate her anxiety, her fear, the gnawing _not knowing._

Thor stopped. He had been running _to_ ; now he was running _from_ , with no pause in between. And here was the only thing important. He pulled Loki close and tight, hands slipping on the wet fabric of her dress. "I did wrong by you."

Loki melted into Thor. It was all right, now. Nothing either had done mattered; it only mattered that they were together. "What did you do, my beth… betr… betroz... Thor?"

"If I tell you, you will leave me."

"I won't. I promise. I fucked your dad." How much worse could it be than that?

"You…” His mind caught up with the words she was actually saying. “ _What?_ ”

"Oh. I thought you knew."

"But..” He pulled back again. How drunk was she? Had this happened _now?_ “Why would you... Odin?"

Loki shivered with disgust, hugging herself against the cold. Her Jotun form would be more comfortable, but the Aesir felt right, now.  "Oh gods _no_ , why would I bed Odin?"

"But you said my father..." Nothing made sense. It was that sort of day. Thor leaned against the railing himself, watching the stormy waves. The sea would be even worse. Thor could relate.

Loki shook her head, alcohol intensifying her annoyance.  "Odin isn't your father. He doesn't even look like you!"

"I... What?"

"I think you need to catch up."

Thor couldn’t argue with that. He felt like a used rag someone had thrown out of the party. Not too far from the truth. "I also need heat. And less wet clothes."

Loki sighed. "Well, we burned down our welcome in Valhalla..."

"I nearly killed your kin,” Thor choked, needing the words out.

Loki rubbed her eyes, unable to take any of this, right now. "We have much to speak about. We must... seek succor elsewhere." She would not be welcome in Jotunheim, not with Thor unmarried and the relationship with Asgard shattered.

"Where else is there?"

"Midgard?"

* * *

 

“That went well, I think.”

The figure by the fire snorted. Frigga, for her part, pouring the last of the mead into a drinking-horn, raised an eyebrow.

“We are no longer welcome in the halls of our own brewmaster, and two kingdoms are without an heir. You’ve a grand definition of ‘well’, husband.”

Odin shrugged. His own goblet was well-filled, and they had dined, if anything, perhaps overlong.  

“Your brewmaster. Is it _ale_ you are worried for, when two kingdoms stand without an heir?” Laufey stepped out of the shadows, the fire dying as he lay a hand on the hearth. “As always, old friend, I am a fool to listen to your schemes.”

“They will be back.”

“And then what? I am inclined, so help me, to agree.” Frigga handed the horn to Laufey, who chilled it with a touch. She nodded to him, drinking.

“By then both Jotun and Aesir might be ready, not only for their union, but for the union of two kingdoms. They are young. So is this idea. Let it ripen.”

“Ripen,” Laufey grunted. “That will bring about a stink.”

“Less of one,” admitted Frigga, “than what might have come, had the union gone ahead as planned.” She grinned. “You begin to see that I was right.”

Odin raised an eyebrow, slowly. “You, my dear? I believe this was all my doing.”

“Neither of you would have gotten anywhere,” Laufey bristled, “had _I_ not agreed to-”

Odin turned back to the window, letting the voices face to a soothing background behind him. The day was clearing as night left the kingdom. From his vantage point, he could just about see the Bifrost, stretching grandly off into the distance. And if you were the All-Father, whose one eye was complemented by those of the ravens circling the skies, you could also see two faint figures, hurrying across it. He turned away with the beginnings of a smile.

  
  


_Dead are the fires of Ægir_

_Dry and dusty his bowls_

_The rain is stilled, the frost melted_

_Only memories of the Butcher echo in his halls_

 

_Old gods walk the streets of Midgard_

_Swim in their seas, fly to their mountains_

_At night, you can hear them howl_

_Seeking their home._


End file.
